


make my heart sparkle like champagne

by softeldritch



Series: are you mine [5]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (this is really mostly fluff tbh), Angst, Buying a House Together, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Wedding Planning, Winnipeg Jets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softeldritch/pseuds/softeldritch
Summary: “Hey, Niky,” he says slowly, enunciating it carefully so he doesn’t somehow mess up the words, “what if wedoget married this summer?”Turns out there’s a lot more to a wedding than just showing up, saying a few words and putting on some rings.





	make my heart sparkle like champagne

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a while to figure out what i wanted to do for pucking rare, but then exams and playoffs ended and i went absolutely feral for Soft™ so this is the result of that! i’ve only gotten more self indulgent and i refuse to apologize for it!!
> 
> i know nothing about buying a house or wedding planning but am i gonna let that stop me? no! i don’t think any of us are in this for realism!
> 
> (title from _hillside boys _by kim petras)__

Patrik isn’t really sure where the idea first comes from—if it’s from Kyle’s housewarming party in the new home he bought with his girlfriend, or hanging around Blake as he helps their new rookie find a place in Winnipeg, or just the warm weight that settles in his chest when he and Nikolaj are learning a new recipe or cleaning together or doing something else domestic. He just has the idea, thinks, _huh, I want that_ , and suddenly he’s on real estate websites looking at waterfront properties. 

It’s preseason, so they’re busy with training camp and preparing for preseason games and Patrik doesn’t bring it up yet because the time just doesn’t seem right. He just bookmarks a few properties and the websites of some real estate agents, and stares maybe a little too long at Nikolaj’s ring tattoo sometimes.

They spend the day of their four year anniversary pretty much entirely in bed, and by the time evening rolls around Patrik’s groggy and his back’s sore and Nikolaj is stumbling around like a baby deer. Patrik has to hold him steady so he doesn’t fall on his ass during their shower, hands around Nik’s waist while Nik massages shampoo into their hair. Then, because neither of them have eaten anything since a half-assed lunch, they head out into the living room to order food and maybe watch a movie or something. So, it’s shaping up to be a pretty good anniversary.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Nikolaj complains, reaching up towards the ceiling, wincing when something in his back cracks. “We can’t do this whole sex marathon thing anymore, Patty, we’re not teenagers.” He rubs the heel of his hand over his hip, where Patrik remembers leaving a whole collection of bite marks.

Patrik rolls his eyes and brings up the Skip app on his phone. They’ve gotten a lot better at cooking for themselves, but it’s their anniversary. They can’t be blamed for wanting to do it the lazy way. “You’re the one who told me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk,” Patrik points out, giving Nik a look. “This is your fault.”

Nikolaj scoffs. “Yeah, and since when do you listen to me?”

“Sometimes you have good ideas.”

“Well, this wasn’t one of them.” Nikolaj collapses onto the couch, pulling a face as he arranges his hips, trying to get comfortable. Patrik can’t help but stare a little bit, thumb hovering over the order button. As much as Nik complains, Patrik kinda likes messing him up like this, giving him something to remember. Nikolaj knows that, which is probably why he’s scowling so hard. “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

“I’m not,” Patrik lies. “I would never.”

“Bullshit,” Nikolaj says, but he’s trying not to grin. He sighs, wiggling around a bit, eyes drifting shut. “Did you order yet?” He looks—not quite comfortable, but happy and sated, covered in reddish marks that’re probably gonna become bruises. His left hand is curled on his bare stomach and Patrik can see his ring tattoo. It hits Patrik kind of like a crunch against the boards, how good Nik looks in this private space, how much Patrik wants to collapse on top of him and just hold him down so they can stay there forever.

“I love you,” Patrik says, sitting on the couch at Nik’s feet. Nikolaj cracks his eyes open, mouth twitching into a grin like he’s about to chirp Patrik for being so forward. Well, if he wants forward, Patrik can give him that. He puts a hand around Nikolaj’s ankle, squeezes, and says, “how do you feel about buying a house?”

Nikolaj’s mouth drops open, his eyes going wide. “Uh,” he says, blinking at Patrik. “What?”

“Buying a house,” Patrik says, dragging out the syllables slowly like he’s talking to a kid. “It’s a thing people do sometimes, you’ve probably heard of it.”

“Fuck off.” Nikolaj kicks him in the thigh, a scowl on his face even though he’s still staring wide-eyed. “Are you serious, or are you just fucking with me?” His voice is low and rough and a bit wobbly, and Patrik squeezes his ankle a little harder this time.

“I’m serious,” he says, tracing circles around the delicate bones of Nik’s ankle. “I’ve been thinking about it, a little bit.” More than a little bit. He’s been thinking about it almost constantly, when his mind isn’t on hockey or Nikolaj. “Like you said, we’re getting older. Don’t you think it’s time to get something . . .” he waves a hand around, gesturing vaguely at the apartment, “more permanent than this?”

Nikolaj shrugs. “I . . . haven’t really thought about it.”

“Okay, then think about it now.”

Rolling his eyes, Nikolaj shifts his hips again and sinks down further against the pillows at the arm of the couch. “Well, obviously,” he says, “just shut up and let me think properly.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Patrik says, finally ordering their food and ignoring the middle finger Nik gives him. He can’t help but stare at Nikolaj, though, wondering exactly what’s going through his head. Nikolaj’s staring up at the ceiling, absentmindedly fiddling with his fingers, and Patrik realizes; Nikolaj might not want to get a house. He might say no.

It hurts more than it should, like a heavy weight suddenly crushing around Patrik’s ribcage. Which is stupid, all things considered. It’s not like he _needs_ a house to be happy. Nikolaj obviously wants forever with him—he’s _said_ it, and the engagement ring tattoos were his idea—but maybe Nikolaj doesn’t wanna do the whole white picket fence thing just yet. And that’s fine. Patrik digs his thumb into the arch of Nikolaj’s foot and repeats it to himself. _That would be fine_.

Only it wouldn’t. Patrik wants this more than he’s wanted anything in a really long time. He wants it with the same urgency he feels about Nikolaj, that pressing need to have and hold and keep, _mineminemine_ repeating in his head like a broken record. 

“Do you—” Nikolaj cuts himself off with a weird, shaky little giggle, and Patrik’s anxiety melts away just like that. Nik sounds nervous, but excited, the way he does when they’re about to do something stupid. There’s the same edge to his voice that he had last time they won the Cup—when Nikolaj basically proposed. “Do you really think we’re ready to own a house?” He struggles but manages to sit up properly, meeting Patrik’s eyes with a grin. “I feel like if we had our own place, we’d burn it down in a week.”

Patrik smiles back, dragging his hand up Nikolaj’s shin so he can dig his fingers into the muscle of his calf. “We haven’t burned this place down yet,” he points out. “We’re actual adults now, Fly, we can handle it.”

Nikolaj stares at him for a second, all big blue eyes and a weird, considering expression on his face. Then his face softens, and he smiles so gently Patrik’s heart hurts. “You really want this.” It’s not quite a statement, but not quite a question, either.

“Yeah,” Patrik says. “I wanna do this with you. I want it so much, Niky.” It’s almost hard, getting the words out, admitting how important this is to him. He didn’t even know how much it mattered until he thought Nikolaj might say no.

Nikolaj’s smile brightens. “Tell me.” 

“I’ll tell you all about it if you come here,” Patrik says with a grin, patting his thigh. “You’re too far away.”

“Aw, you want cuddles?” Nikolaj’s smirking, but he still awkwardly climbs onto Patrik’s lap, settling down with a knee on either side of Patrik’s thighs. Patrik drags his hands up the warm, damp skin of Nik’s back, pressing into the feeling of muscle moving under skin when Nikolaj rolls his shoulders and shudders out a sigh. “You’re really sappy today.” It’s Nikolaj who ducks down for a slow, lazy kiss, though, so Patrik’s pretty sure Nikolaj’s feeling as romantic as he is.

“Four years, babe,” Patrik mumbles into the kiss. He wraps his arms around Nik’s narrow waist and drags him as close as possible, squeezing tighter when Nikolaj catches his lower lip between his teeth.

Slowly, Nikolaj pulls back, eyes still shut as he breathes into the space between them. “So,” he says, opening his eyes and leaning back enough so they’re looking at each other properly, “why is getting a house such a thing for you?”

Patrik shrugs. It’s hard to put into words, especially in English, but he’ll try. “It’s like the tattoos,” he says, smiling when Nikolaj’s mouth twitches helplessly into a grin. “I want something permanent with you. Something that’s _ours_ , not just an apartment we rent—something we own, you know?” He snakes his hand up Nikolaj’s back to massage the nape of his neck, grinning wider when Nik sighs and bows his head. “Plus, I’m pretty sure getting a house with the person you love is a _thing_ for a lot of people.”

Nikolaj laughs, low and quiet. “Yeah, those are pretty good reasons.” He leans forward, until his nose is pressed into Patrik’s neck, shoulders slumping as he melts into Patrik’s touch. “Sell it to me a little more, though.”

“Well it’d be a whole bunch of new places to have sex,” Patrik says, and Nikolaj barks out a laugh. “And our house could have a backyard and a hot tub and all that. Think of the sex possibilities, Fly.” Nikolaj’s still laughing, shoulders shaking with it, and Patrik rubs a hand up and down his spine just to feel him move. There’s a moment, where Patrik considers not saying the depth of it, but. Nikolaj wanted him to explain it, so he’ll tell him everything. “I wanna make a life with you,” he says, quietly, and Nikolaj makes a broken noise into his neck.

“That’s a pretty good reason, too,” Nikolaj says slowly, and Patrik’s almost worried he’s gonna start crying. “Okay, you convinced me.” He doesn’t cry, just presses a feather-light kiss to Patrik’s throat and curls as close as he can before the awkward positioning gets in his way.

Patrik breathes in deep, smelling their shared bodywash on Nik’s skin. “Thank you, _kultaseni_.”

Nikolaj huffs out a shaky little laugh. “Why are you thanking me? It’s not like I’m doing it _for_ you, you just made good points.”

“Because.” Patrik shrugs. “I’m thankful for you.”

“Oh.” Nikolaj shudders against him, bracing both hands on Patrik’s shoulders so he can lean back and look at him properly. His eyes are bright blue, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he’s staring wide-eyed at Patrik like he doesn’t know what to do with him. Fuck, Patrik loves him so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes. Apparently Nik’s feeling the same, because he sucks in a breath, says, “I love you,” and leans in to kiss Patrik so sweetly it makes them both shiver. 

A part of him is kinda surprised at how easily they’ve made this huge decision, but Patrik’s learned that most things are a lot easier with Nikolaj anyway.

* * *

The thing is, they’re busy people, and they don’t really have time to sit down and start actually house hunting yet. Preseason finally starts—Patrik’s pretty sure the hockey gods hate him, because the Jets play the Stars twice, and both times their stupid Danish superstar spends the entire game chirping back and forth with Nik—so they’re focused on that, and getting ready for the actual season to begin. Then they’re off on a three game road trip to start the season, and everything feels a bit crazy as they settle back into the familiar rhythm of living from one hockey game to the next.

“How many bedrooms do we need?” Patrik asks, when he and Nikolaj collapse into their hotel bed, probably a little too late after going out drinking with the guys. Well, Nik drank, and Patrik got dragged into dancing with him to celebrate their first win of the season. It’s always fun, grinding up against Nikolaj when he’s loose and needy like that.

Now, Nikolaj’s groggy and tired, but still just as cute. He mumbles something into his pillow, and reaches out vaguely in Patrik’s direction, so Patrik rolls over into his space and throws an arm over Nik’s waist. Nikolaj makes a soft, sleepy sound, says, “dunno, two? Three?” and promptly falls asleep.

A few days later, heading into morning skate, Nikolaj asks, “are we gonna need to figure out a budget?”

Patrik takes a second to think. “Maybe?”

It goes on like that for the next few weeks, bringing little things up whenever there’s a spare moment. They decide to avoid anything near downtown, because downtown driving in Winnipeg _sucks_. Nikolaj wants fully furnished, because apparently furniture shopping is exhausting, and they discover their tastes lean more towards modern than classic. Nikolaj wants a pool, and Patrik likes the idea of a house on the water. 

They come back home from a shootout win in Vancouver and Nikolaj flops against Patrik’s shoulder on the couch to look at property listings on Patrik’s laptop. It’s a warm, quiet moment, the kind Patrik wants to bottle up and keep forever.

“I like the ones with big windows,” Nikolaj says, muffling a yawn against Patrik’s shirt. “It lets a lot of light in. I always liked that, back home.”

Patrik nods, and opens up the google doc to add it to The List. Anything they come up with, big or small, gets added to the list, so they’ve got all their must-haves and deal breakers in one place when they _actually_ start looking. “When do we want to start looking properly?” 

Nikolaj hums. “Bye week, maybe?”

“What if we’re All-Stars?”

“Then we do it after All-Star weekend, duh.” Nikolaj reaches out, slowly closing the lid of Patrik’s laptop, his other hand creeping onto Patrik’s thigh. He stares up at Patrik through his lashes, a wicked grin curling across his face. “I’m bored of looking at houses we can’t buy yet, Patty, wanna make out?”

“Needy,” Patrik croons, but he moves the laptop to the coffee table and lets Nik push him over onto his back anyway, because he’s never gonna be able to say no to Nikolaj.

Plus, it gives him an opportunity to bite a mark high up on the column of Nik’s throat, which very quickly becomes everyone’s favourite locker room topic at practice the next morning. Patrik maybe went a little overboard. He’s not gonna apologize for it.

“Jesus, Patty,” Jack says, leaning into Nikolaj’s space until Nikolaj shoves him away. Jack turns the grin on Patrik, and Nikolaj makes a face at Patrik over Jack’s shoulder. “Still doing the whole vampire thing, huh? Aren’t you getting a little old for that?”

“Younger than you,” Patrik fires back, tugging at the laces of his skates. “At least I’m getting some, anyway.”

Jack waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m getting plenty.”

“Your own hand doesn’t count,” Dean Dobrik calls from across the room, a cheeky grin on his face as he bumps his fist against Adam’s. Dean’s their new rookie, a first round draft pick, and since Adam’s taken him under his wing he’s already become insufferable. Patrik’s pretty sure even _he_ wasn’t that mouthy in his rookie year. “Seriously, though, Rosie’s got a point. Don’t you old people think hickeys are, like, trashy and immature? Shouldn’t you be shaking your cane at us young hooligans?”

Patrik narrows his eyes. “I’m twenty-five.”

“ _Old_ ,” Dean taunts. “But I’ll give you this, at least you’re not as old as Mommy and Daddy.”

Blake sighs. “Please don’t call me Daddy.”

“Yeah, only Scheifs is allowed to do that,” Connor says, and the room fills up with various groans and gags and obnoxious cheers. Mark goes bright red, glancing over at Blake like he’s looking for a rescue, but Blake has his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, so he’s probably not in a state to be rescuing anyone.

“I hate that neither of them denied it,” Kyle says once the room has quieted down, and that riles everybody up again.

Finally Blake stands up, his eyes sweeping over the room. “If you’re dressed, _get on the ice_ ,” he orders. Half of the team sheepishly files out of the locker room. Patrik stays, because there’s a stupid knot in his skate laces that he hasn’t been able to work loose yet. 

“So, daddy kink aside,” Dean says as he wrestles his practice jersey over his head, and everyone left in the room groans, “can we keep talking about Patty’s fuckboy hickey? Because I think there’s a lot more I could say about it.” 

“Yeah, that’s your problem,” Nikolaj drawls, the tips of his ears bright red. “You never _stop_ talking.”

“I’m just saying, I thought hickeys were kind of pointless after you put a ring on it. Speaking of, when’s _that_ happening? I love weddings.”

It washes over Patrik slowly, the realization that they’ve been engaged for over a year now with no discussion of a wedding. He always knew they’d get to it eventually, but they’re busy with hockey most of the year. And he’s kind of been waiting for Nikolaj to say something. Nikolaj’s the one who proposed; it just seems right to let him set the pace and follow his lead, for once. 

Now that Dean’s said it, though. Patrik imagines a real ring on Nikolaj’s finger, imagines them being legally bound, and he _wants_ so suddenly and so desperately his head swims. What’d Nik say when they got the tattoos? Forever?

Yeah. Patrik wants that.

When he glances over at Nikolaj, though, Nik looks like a deer in headlights. His eyes are big, his mouth hanging open, and he meets Patrik’s gaze with a short, choked, “um.”

It’s kind of cute, watching him flounder, but Patrik’ll take pity on him. “Well it’s going to take a long time to plan it,” he says slowly, smirking up at Dean. “Since we’re going to have one of those big, traditional weddings. In a huge church with, hm, about 400 guests?” There’s gratitude in Nik’s tentative smile when Patrik’s eyes flick over to him, like he knows what Patrik’s doing. “We’re still arguing over who gets to wear the big white dress, though.”

Nikolaj’s eyes light up, and he snorts. “You don’t have the waist to pull off a wedding dress.”

“I dunno, Nik, I don’t think a dress would go well with your facial hair,” Mark giggles, his face still a bit red. “Patty’s got you beat there, he hasn’t started growing the beard out yet.”

Blake laughs. “Yeah, but I don’t know if they make anything in Patty’s size.”

“I’ll get it made custom,” Patrik says. “Duh.”

“Let’s be real here,” Adam says, and Patrik hadn’t realized he was even still in the room. He’s dressed, but lingering while Brandon fiddles with his padding. A grin stretches across his face as he looks between Patrik and Nikolaj. “Neither of them should be wearing a white dress, because we all know neither of them are virgins.”

It’s at that moment that Paul sticks his head into the locker room, looking like he immediately regrets coming to see what’s taking half his team so long to get on the ice. He sighs, drags a hand down his face, and looks up at the ceiling like he’s praying for a team that isn’t so fucking weird. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in this conversation, and I really don’t want to,” he says, glaring at Blake, “but can we all please get on the ice and start focusing on hockey?”

Everyone mumbles out an apology, with varying degrees of sincerity, and Paul disappears. After that the subject is mostly dropped, because Paul gives a withering glare to anyone who brings up anything wedding related. Connor keeps skating around Patrik and Nikolaj humming a wedding march, though, and during an over the top celly hug where Patrik lifts Nikolaj up off the ice, Brandon skates by and reminds them they should be saving themselves for marriage. Every time someone says something, Nik flushes red and gets this weird, off-balance look on his face before he manages a laugh and tells whoever it is to fuck off.

Patrik is . . . kind of obsessed. There’s something about the way Nikolaj’s eyes go wide and his lips part for the split second before he shakes it off that’s _really_ appealing. He manages to stay more or less focused on practice, though, and then they’re on the way home in Patrik’s car and Nikolaj looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his seat. He’s shifting around, fiddling with the heated seat controls, tapping his foot a little bit off-time with each song that plays.

“Chill,” Patrik tells him, as he’s pulling to a stop at a red light. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” Nikolaj fires back. Patrik stares pointedly at his bouncing leg. Nikolaj takes in a short breath, stills his leg, and meets Patrik’s gaze with a stubborn set to his chin like he’s about to start a fight. “Eyes on the road.”

Patrik grins. “But then I can’t look at you.”

“Oh my god,” Nikolaj groans, covering his eyes with one hand as the light turns green and Patrik steps on the gas. “That one was really bad, babe. You’re embarrassing. If you had shame, you’d be ashamed of saying that. Even as a joke.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Patrik sneaks a grin in Nikolaj’s direction. “You know how much I like watching you.” He’s only half teasing. It’s well established at this point that Patrik likes just _looking_ at Nik, whether he’s playing hockey or sucking dick or just, like, chopping vegetables. Patrik likes everything Nikolaj does. He’d never been so in love with—or so turned on by—so many mundane things before he met Nikolaj.

“Just focus on watching the traffic for now,” Nikolaj says drily. “If we die in a car crash and it’s not even for a cool reason I’m gonna be pissed.”

“What the hell is a cool reason to die in a car crash?”

“I dunno, a car chase?” Suddenly there’s a hand dangerously high on Patrik’s thigh, and Patrik’s leg twitches as he looks over to see Nikolaj grinning at him. “Or road head.” Nikolaj pulls back, and Patrik feels the loss of his hand with a faint shudder through his entire body. “But seriously, Patty, you should be focused on driving.”

“You’re gonna get it,” Patrik threatens, his voice low. But he doesn’t really wanna die with his dick half-hard, so he ignores whatever look Nik’s giving him and keeps his eyes on the road, maybe driving a little faster than he should.

They finally get back to the apartment, and Nikolaj’s a _menace_ in the elevator—pressing close, two fingers tucked into Patrik’s belt, grinning up at him in that stubborn, challenging way he _knows_ Patrik likes. Patrik wants to wrestle him up against the mirrored wall and fuck him up, kiss him until they’re both breathless, until Nikolaj’s trembling with it. But someone could walk in at any moment, and he’s not actually reckless enough to risk it. 

So he waits until they’re back in the apartment and the door’s locked behind them before shoving Nikolaj up against the wall. “Brat,” he says, swallowing down Nikolaj’s laugh with a kiss.

“Do something about it,” Nikolaj mutters against his mouth, and, okay. If he wants it to be like _that_.

He kisses Nikolaj hard, licking into his mouth, grinding their hips together so suddenly Nikolaj moans and wrenches his head to the side to heave in a breath. Which kind of works out for what Patrik wants, actually. Patrik kisses his jaw, gets both hands on his shoulders, and shoves down hard until Nik’s legs buckle and he falls gracelessly to his knees.

For a long moment, Nikolaj just stares up at him, red creeping up his cheekbones, eyes big and blue and a little bit fragile. “ _God_ , you look good down there,” Patrik murmurs, dragging his fingers through Nikolaj’s short hair. “So pretty on your knees, Niky.”

Nikolaj shudders, his eyes fluttering closed, chest still heaving as he catches his breath. Then he grins up at Patrik, all bright-eyed and smug, and Patrik’s heartbeat goes a little crazy. “That’s why I get to wear the poofy white wedding dress,” he says, shifting his weight so he’s kneeling a little more comfortably, “I’m the pretty one.”

Well, Patrik’s not gonna argue with that. He scratches his nails over Nikolaj’s scalp, struggling with his belt one-handed, smacking away Nik’s hands when he tries to reach up and help. “No touching,” Patrik tells him, purposefully leaving it vague about whether he means his dick or Nikolaj’s. A familiar thrill runs up his spine when Nikolaj blinks up at him, swallows, and obediently rests his fists on his knees. It’s fun, when Nik pushes back, but there’s something undeniable about the way he folds so easily sometimes. Patrik feels the power of it like a pulse in the base of his spine. “That’s it, Niky. So good.”

It takes a bit more fumbling to undo his belt and pop open the fly of his pants. Patrik doesn’t waste time once he’s got his dick out, just gives a few tugs and feeds it slowly into Nikolaj’s open mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, groaning when Nikolaj responds with a soft hum that vibrates through his dick. Patrik thumbs at Nikolaj’s cheek, traces the edge of his mouth, murmurs, “you’re so good for me.” Patrik will never get over how Nikolaj looks, like this; lashes curved over his cheekbones, breathing hard and slow through his nose, lips stretched around Patrik’s cock. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay?”

He doesn’t really wait for a response, just pulls back and rolls his hips forward slowly, a hand curved around the back of Nikolaj’s skull to keep him in place. Nik just kneels there so nicely and _takes_ , hollowing his cheeks, swallowing around Patrik’s cock, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He’s so _good_ —it hits Patrik kind of suddenly, and his hips stutter forward before he can control himself. 

Nikolaj chokes, but he doesn’t pull back—he surges forward, until Patrik’s dick is buried in his throat. Oh, fuck. “Niky,” Patrik mumbles, his voice breaking, vision blurring a little around the edges. 

Nikolaj moans, and Patrik feels it like a surge of adrenaline through his entire body. He picks up the pace, fucking Nikolaj’s mouth until there’s saliva dripping down his chin, until both of them are shuddering. His orgasm builds way too fast and way too strong, hot and desperate at the base of his spine. 

Just before it’s about to hit Patrik threads his fingers into Nikolaj’s hair, shoves him back, and finishes himself off all over Nikolaj’s pretty face. Come lands on his closed eyelid, across his cheekbone, dripping over his lower lip as he gasps down air. He looks _wrecked_ —chest heaving, hands gripping at his own clothed thighs, come and saliva dribbling into his beard—but more than that he looks like he’s _Patrik’s_. That’s a rush almost as violent as the orgasm, and Patrik has to lean a hand against the wall as his legs suddenly go shaky and weak.

“Fuck,” Patrik groans, cupping Nikolaj’s jaw, smearing come across his cheek with his thumb. “So good.”

Nikolaj breathes in deep, and whines on the exhale. “Patty,” he says, his voice raw and cracked open, lashes fluttering as he opens his eyes and stares up at Patrik. “Please.”

Well, Patrik can’t say no to that. “C’mere,” he says, helping Nikolaj up onto unsteady legs, caging him in against the wall with an arm braced near his head. “I’ve got you.” He palms Nikolaj’s dick through his jeans, rubbing him so hard it’s probably a little painful, but Nikolaj just moans and bucks up against his hand. 

It doesn’t take long before Nikolaj’s shuddering and groaning against Patrik’s cheek, hands curled in Patrik’s shirt, hips grinding into Patrik’s palm as he comes. “Fuck, fuck,” he moans, breathless and broken. 

Patrik keeps palming his dick until Nikolaj shivers and pushes helplessly at Patrik’s arm, hand curling loose around Patrik’s wrist. Then it’s just quiet, as both of them breathe in the unlit entrance of the apartment.

Eventually Patrik pushes back, still breathing hard as he steps back enough to get a good look at Nikolaj. He looks so damn good like this, slumped against the wall with come on his face and a wet spot on the front of his jeans. And when he opens his eyes, meeting Patrik’s gaze with his cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and humiliation, that just makes it even better.

“Don’t even say anything,” Nikolaj warns, his voice completely wrecked. “I feel disgusting. Did you really have to come on my face?”

“You look great,” Patrik tells him, grinning when Nikolaj winces and his eyes shutter off to the side. That’s his Nikolaj; sweet and willing when Patrik’s making a mess of him, only embarrassed in the aftermath. Patrik moves forward to kiss him again, tasting himself in Nikolaj’s mouth, tucking both hands up under Nikolaj’s shirt to feel the heat of his skin. “I like you like this,” he murmurs against Nikolaj’s mouth, “looking like you belong to me.”

Nikolaj shudders, and shoves weakly against Patrik’s chest. “Shut up.”

“You _love_ it,” Patrik teases, kissing the tip of Nikolaj’s nose. 

Nikolaj doesn’t say anything at first, just tips his chin up to kiss Patrik again, sweet and slow. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “I do.”

* * *

It’s later that night, after they’ve both showered and they’re making dinner together, that Nikolaj starts acting a little weird again. Jittery and off-balance, the way he was during practice and the car ride home. Normally Patrik would bully him up against the nearest flat surface to hold him still and make him say what’s on his mind, but Nikolaj’s chopping vegetables and Patrik doesn’t wanna risk accidentally getting a knife somewhere. So he just dices the pork and waits for Nik to come out with whatever it is he wants to say.

He doesn’t have to wait long, because a few minutes later Nikolaj drops the knife into the sink with a clatter and says, “when should we get married?”

Patrik freezes. He turns to see Nik’s back to him, hands curled around the edge of the counter. “I don’t know,” Patrik says slowly, eyes caught on the tension in Nikolaj’s shoulders. “It doesn’t really matter to me.” As long as they end up married, whether they do it tomorrow or ten years from now doesn’t make much of a difference.

Well, it makes a bit of a difference, now that he’s thinking about it more. But the point still stands.

Nikolaj nods. “But you still wanna get married, right?” He still hasn’t turned around.

“Well, yeah. Obviously.” There’s a weird fragility to Nikolaj’s voice that’s making Patrik’s chest go tight. He crowds up against Nik’s back, snaking both arms around his waist, careful not to let his gross slimy raw-meat hands touch anything. “You okay?”

Nikolaj lets out a long, slow breath. “Yeah. Just—the guys talking earlier, it made me realize. We’ve been engaged for a while.” He tips his head to the side, and Patrik takes the hint and kisses his neck, softly enough that he shivers. “We should start thinking about when we actually want to get married. We’re getting older.”

“We could do it soon,” Patrik says, and something settles comfortably behind his ribs, as he realizes how much he wants it. “We could go out and get married tomorrow, if you want.”

Nikolaj snorts. He reaches back, prodding a bit at Patrik’s stomach until Patrik moves back and gives him room to spin around and face him. “We’re having a wedding,” Nikolaj says, grinning at him, wrapping his arms around Patrik’s waist. “Maybe not in a church, with one of us in a dress, but we’re gonna have a wedding. Our moms might kill us, otherwise.”

“That’s a good point.”

“We can’t really get married during the season, so it’d have to be during the summer,” Nikolaj says. “In Denmark.”

Patrik narrows his eyes. “Why not Finland?”

“You didn’t have the balls to propose, so you don’t get to choose what country we get married in.” Patrik’s about to argue, because it’s not like he was afraid of proposing so much as just not thinking about it—but Nikolaj raises his eyebrows and keeps going. “Plus, we had gay marriage way before Finland, so, first come first serve.”

He seems pretty set in it, so Patrik figures they can argue about it later. “So, a summer wedding, in Europe somewhere,” he says, ignoring Nik’s unimpressed look. “We should do it the summer coming up, then. If we wait another year you’ll almost be thirty, and I don’t want to marry an old man.”

Nikolaj groans, slumping forward so his head’s on Patrik’s chest. “Don’t remind me.”

For a second they just stand there, and Patrik vaguely imagines what it’d be like to get married to Nikolaj somewhere beautiful, surrounded by their families and the team. It’s making him a little bit breathless. “Hey, Niky,” he says slowly, enunciating it carefully so he doesn’t somehow mess up the words, “what if we _do_ get married this summer?”

“As long as it’s in Denmark.”

Patrik makes a frustrated noise. “No, Nikolaj—” It’s a bit hard, with Nikolaj’s arms wrapped around him, but he pulls back enough to make Nik drop his arms and lift his head up to look at him properly. Patrik stares at him, trying to put all the urgency and sincerity he feels into his gaze as he says, “what if we get married this summer? What if we _actually_ get married this summer?”

Nikolaj’s eyes go wide. “Uhhh . . . you mean for real?”

“Yeah. I wanna marry you, Niky, why not?” He’s regretting not washing his gross raw pork hands, because he wants so badly to just wrap Nikolaj up and hold him. “We’re not waiting for anything. We should do it.”

“Holy shit, yes.” Nikolaj’s grin is blinding, and Patrik feels it in every bone in his body. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

They meet each other halfway in a crooked, giggly kiss and Patrik feels light-headed and a little bit drunk, and _fuck_ he needs to wash his hands. “Wait, wait,” he laughs into Nik’s mouth, leaning forward to turn on the tap, bending Nikolaj backwards over the edge of the sink. “Let me just—” He interrupts himself with another kiss, somehow managing to get some soap and wash the pork juice off his hands. Then he doesn’t even bother turning off the tap before wrapping both arms around Nik’s waist and crushing him so tight his toes lift off the ground. 

It’s like they just got engaged all over again, Patrik’s heart is beating so hard. They kind of did.

“Fuck, I love you,” Nikolaj says, tucking his face into Patrik’s neck when his feet are back on the floor. His arms drape around Patrik’s shoulders, and Patrik has the sudden, ridiculous urge to start slow dancing in the middle of the kitchen. There’s not even any music playing, but he _wants_ it, the way he wants all the other sappy romantic things Nikolaj makes fun of him for and pretends not to like.

He doesn’t start dancing, just winds his arms so tight it makes Nikolaj wheeze. “You’re going to be mine forever.”

“That works both ways,” Nikolaj says, like Patrik doesn’t know that, like his heart isn’t pounding at the idea of them belonging to each other. “You’re gonna be mine, too.”

Fuck it. Patrik slips a hand into Nikolaj’s back pocket, pulling out his phone, letting his thumbprint unlock it. He picks the first soft, romantic song he finds on Nik’s music list and tucks the phone back in his pocket, pressing his other hand between Nikolaj’s shoulder blades to keep him from leaning back to ask what’s going on.

Music filters out into the kitchen, quiet and slow. “Dance with me,” Patrik says softly, his arms wrapping around Nikolaj’s waist again as he starts to sway.

For a long, quiet second, Nikolaj doesn’t say anything, just lets Patrik move with him. Then his arms go tighter around Patrik’s neck, and he mumbles, “are you serious?” all faint and unsteady.

“It feels right.”

Nikolaj laughs shakily, and starts to sway with him. “You’re so sappy.”

Well, if he’s gonna call Patrik sappy, might as well go all out. “ _Mä rakastan sua_ ,” he tells Nikolaj, pressing a kiss to his hair, dragging a hand up and down his spine. “ _Rakastan sinua ikuisesti_.” The words always come easier in Finnish, spilling out almost thoughtlessly as the music filters into the air. Patrik closes his eyes and just experiences it all; Nikolaj’s warm body pressed close, the sound of their breathing, piano notes and strums of an acoustic guitar and a low male voice singing words he’s not paying attention to. It’s so romantic it feels like his heart’s about to burst.

With his eyes closed like this, he can almost imagine they’re not barefoot in their kitchen, that they’re dancing at their wedding, and the force of that idea’s enough to make him breathless. Fuck, they’re gonna get _married_. They’re gonna get a house and get married and they’re slow-dancing in their kitchen. Patrik feels kind of like they’ve turned into adults all at once, and kind of like they’ve been building to this gradually from the day they met.

The soft, romantic music fades out—immediately replaced by some loud, obnoxious rap song. They both burst out laughing so hard they almost fall over, and the romantic moment’s gone, but Patrik doesn’t really mind too much.

“We need to finish cooking,” Nikolaj says, pushing back, splaying his hands over Patrik’s chest to steady himself. “Then we can, I dunno, figure out more of this whole wedding thing after dinner.” He’s smiling, genuine and a little nervous, and Patrik takes a moment to kiss him before they get back into dinner prep.

Later, when they’ve settled on the couch to watch the Sharks vs. Bruins game and probably make out a little, Patrik nuzzles against Nik’s head and asks, “do you really wanna do it in Denmark?”

Nikolaj shifts against him. “Yeah, obviously.”

“Okay, but what if _I_ want to do it in Finland?”

“That sounds like a problem for you to deal with.”

Patrik’s arm is slung around his shoulders and they’re pressed together from knee to hip to head, which is unfortunate, because that means he’s not really in a position to bite Nikolaj for that remark like he wants to. Instead he just pokes into Nikolaj’s thigh hard enough that Nik squirms and bats his hand away. “That doesn’t seem very fair, Fly.”

“Aw, poor baby.” Nikolaj wiggles in even closer, patting Patrik’s knee. “Don’t pout, baby.”

Patrik presses his mouth into a line, and resists the urge to say he’s not. That’ll just make Nikolaj call him whiny—which is a fucking joke, because Nik is sometimes the whiniest person Patrik’s ever met, when he thinks it’ll get him somewhere.

It usually does. At least where Patrik is concerned.

“You can’t just decide we’re getting married in Denmark,” is what Patrik says instead. “Marriage is about compromise.”

“Good thing we’re not married yet, then.” 

Okay, fine. Patrik tightens his arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders, gets a hand on his thigh, and dumps him off the couch and onto his ass.

“Hey!” Nikolaj’s glaring at him with an open-mouthed look of shock, like he _cannot believe_ that Patrik would shove him off the couch, and it’s so fucking funny that Patrik can’t not laugh. He wants to smack Nikolaj in his stupid face with a pillow, and he wants to follow him down and kiss that same stupid face all over. 

“You deserve it,” he says, giggling. “We’re not getting married in Denmark just because you say so.”

Nikolaj narrows his eyes. “Well, we’re not getting married in Finland just because _you_ say so.”

For a second, they just stare each other down, waiting for the other one to look away first. When that doesn’t work, Patrik raises a brow and offers, “flip a coin for it?”

Nikolaj barks out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s how we’re supposed to make actual decisions, babe,” he says, poking Patrik in the ankle with his big toe. “We’re adults, remember? We can’t just pick the country we get married in with a coin flip.”

Patrik just shrugs. “Why not?”

“You’re kidding.” Patrik shrugs again, and Nikolaj just stares at him. Then his disbelief starts to crack, and a bright-eyed grin shines through, the kind that makes Patrik’s heart swell. They probably both look like idiots, grinning at each other with Nikolaj on the floor. “Y’know what? Why not.” Nikolaj stands, padding over to his wallet barefoot. He comes back with a coin and takes his place on the couch again, one knee curled under him and the other leg dangling over the edge, and his blue eyes are more serious than Patrik’s ever seen them during a game.

“Heads for Finland,” Patrik says, angling his body to face Nik properly. “Go ahead.”

Nikolaj pauses. “And we’re agreeing that this is legit, right? Whatever wins, we do that?”

“I swear,” Patrik says, offering his hand for a handshake.

Nikolaj takes it, and laughs. “I swear too. Okay, let’s do this, I guess.” He breathes in deep and stares at the quarter as he balances it on his thumb. Then he flicks it up into the air, and lightning fast his hand reaches out to grab it and slam it down on the back of his other hand. They lock eyes. Nikolaj swallows. “Ready?”

Patrik nods.

Nikolaj moves his hand, and Patrik sees a caribou head staring back at him.

“Ha!” Nikolaj grabs the quarter and shoves it so close to Patrik’s face he goes cross-eyed. “Tails! That’s Denmark!” He flicks it up in the air again and catches it, a smug grin on his stupid face. “Looks like we’re getting married in _my_ homeland, babe, _sorry_.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. He’s smiling so wide it’s gotta hurt, and god, Patrik doesn’t even _care_ about not getting married in Finland. They’re _getting married_. All he cares about is having Nikolaj forever.

It’s so overwhelming he can’t stop himself from grabbing Nikolaj’s face in both hands and crushing their mouths together for a kiss. Nikolaj makes a surprised noise and fumbles a bit before his hands close around Patrik’s wrists, tilting his head to make the kiss heady and intoxicating. 

When the kiss breaks they’re both breathless, Patrik’s hands still curved around Nikolaj’s jaw, Nik’s fingers curled loosely around his wrists. “What was that for?” Nikolaj asks, his voice wavering towards the end.

“I’m not allowed to kiss you?”

Nikolaj shoves back, laughing. “Well, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But that felt like it had a reason.”

It did, but not one Patrik can easily put into words. So he shrugs, and grabs Nikolaj’s left hand to trace his thumb over the tattoo. “Because of this,” he says, as Nikolaj stares at him with big blue eyes. “I’m just really excited to marry you, Niky.”

Nikolaj blinks at him, then narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to make me cry, aren’t you.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Asshole.” He doesn’t pull his hand out of Patrik’s, though, so Patrik massages his fingers and vaguely wonders how much he could make Nikolaj blush by kissing his knuckles. Nikolaj always melts for romantic shit like that, even if he tries to pretend he doesn’t. “Weren’t we gonna watch the game?”

It’s a pretty obvious change of subject, which probably means Patrik _could_ make Nikolaj all teary if he kept going. He almost considers it.

Then again, he’s got all the time in the world.

First on the list of being officially, actually engaged—after some celebratory making out during pretty much the entire game—is calling their families. Patrik goes first, since it’s still a bit too early in Denmark, and he fiddles with Nikolaj’s fingers while the phone rings. His heart’s almost beating out of his chest, and the anxiety of it all is a bit stupid, but Nikolaj gives him a soft smile and winds their fingers together and that helps, a lot.

Patrik’s mom sounds like she might almost be crying, and his dad thickly congratulates him, and then they both demand he put the phone on speaker so they can talk to Nikolaj too. It satisfies something deep in his chest, to see Nikolaj laugh and snark with his parents. Like a reminder that Nikolaj is already a part of his family. 

He calls Pinja next, because she’d kill him if he didn’t tell her with everyone else, and she very softly demands to be in the wedding party. Then she berates Patrik for not having the wedding in Finland, and when he explains the coin toss, she berates him for that too.

Calling Nikolaj’s parents is a whole different thing, because both of them cry when he drops the news. For a while it’s just Nikolaj giggling and speaking to them in Danish, glancing at Patrik every so often with a big grin, looking like he actually might start crying too.

It’s all kind of surreal, Patrik realizes, while Nik’s on the phone with Sebastian. Deciding it themselves is one thing. Everything’s different now that they’ve told their families. Somehow it’s more permanent, more definite. 

They’re getting _married_. _Fuck_.

* * *

“So, Caroline already told her wedding planner friend about us,” Nikolaj says about a week later, as Patrik’s walking back into their hotel room from a morning shower. He’s sprawled out on his stomach on their bed, fiddling with his phone. “She doesn’t trust us to pick someone good, since apparently we have no taste.”

“You have great taste,” Patrik says, climbing onto the bed and shuffling up close to Nik’s side. “Look at who you’re engaged to.”

“Yeah, you’re really the peak of human perfection,” Nikolaj drawls. “This is probably good, though. I have no idea how to plan a wedding.”

“Me neither.” Patrik drapes himself half over Nikolaj’s back, one arm wrapped around him and his chin hooked over Nik’s shoulder, reading Nikolaj’s phone screen over his shoulder. It’s a professional email doubly written in English and Danish, with a pretty floral graphic at the bottom. “Is that the wedding planner?”

Nikolaj makes a soft, affirmative noise. “She wants to set up a video call for a consultation.” He wiggles a bit, until Patrik’s settled more securely over him, and Patrik turns to press a kiss to his ear just because. “Plus she wants us to think about a few things before we meet with her. Like, guest list, a date range, budget, the style of wedding we want. That kind of thing.” 

Having a planner for the wedding is probably a much more organized way of doing things than their jotted, rambling list of house-related likes and dislikes. “Budget’s easy,” Patrik murmurs. “That’s just ‘however much it costs’.” It’s nice, being a millionaire with way too much disposable income. “I don’t know about the other stuff, though.”

“Same.” Nikolaj tosses the phone up onto his pillow and slumps forward, using his arms as a pillow. Patrik follows him down, rolling onto his side, shuffling over so there’s enough space between their faces to see each other properly. “We’ll have to figure out who’s on our guest list besides team and family, I guess. And . . . maybe late July? Early August?”

“Late July.” Patrik grins. “We want enough time for a good, _long_ honeymoon.” 

Nikolaj rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Late July, sure.”

Quiet settles between them, and Patrik lets his eyes drift shut. It’s not time for a nap yet, they’ve still got morning skate to get to, but there’s something nice about lying here with his elbow touching Nikolaj’s and their legs crossed at the ankle. With his eyes closed, it almost feels like they’re back in bed at home and they have nowhere to go all day.

“Speaking of honeymoons,” Nikolaj starts.

Patrik opens his eyes. “What? You wanna have a quickie?”

“How is _that_ where your mind goes?”

“Everyone knows honeymoons are just an excuse to have a lot of sex in a new and exciting place, Niky, it’s not a hard jump.”

Rolling his eyes, Nikolaj rolls over so he’s on his side, one arm still folded up under his head. “That’s definitely not what I was getting at,” he drawls, poking Patrik in the ankle with his toes. “I was gonna ask where we should honeymoon? That’s a thing you’re supposed to decide early, right?”

Patrik’s almost tempted to say Finland, just so Nikolaj’s victory of getting married in Denmark is bittersweet. But, well, honeymoons _are_ supposed to be about having sex in new places. Patrik’s already fucked Nik plenty in Finland. Plus, as much as he loves Finland, it’s one of the places he considers home. Not exactly exciting and romantic and all those things a honeymoon is supposed to be. “Somewhere warm,” he suggests, tucking back a wet strand of hair as it falls over his forehead. “We’re always in cold places, we never get to go anywhere hot.”

Nikolaj smirks. “So, you’re gonna get sunburnt and whine about it for the entire honeymoon?”

“That happened _one time_ , Fly.”

Nikolaj laughs, arching his back and stretching out his legs, nose scrunching up as he lets out a giggly yawn. When the laughter fades he’s still smiling, soft and sweet. “Seriously, though, that sounds really nice. A couple weeks on a beach somewhere, just you and me, doing whatever we want.” He hums, eyes fluttering shut and the tips of his ears going red, and Patrik wonders what exactly’s going through his head. “Wedding in Denmark, honeymoon somewhere tropical. Sounds good to me, babe.”

Well now Patrik’s thinking about it more; he imagines them lounging on a white beach, Nikolaj soft and relaxed, grinning up at Patrik through his lashes. They don’t get to take nearly enough vacations but there’s always something special about Nikolaj when they’re travelling alone. Like all the excited energy he normally carries around has bled out, leaving him loose and languid.

Patrik sees all that playing out against the backs of his eyelids, but with a ring around Nikolaj’s finger, and his breath catches in his throat.

He’s about to press Nikolaj onto his back and kiss a line down his jaw when Nikolaj’s phone buzzes. That kind of kills the mood, and reminds Patrik they’ve got morning skate pretty soon. Nik reaches up to grab the phone, reads whatever text he just got, and laughs before passing it over to Patrik. It’s from Kyle, and simply says, _the bus leaves in 10 minutes, paul said if u miss it bc ur fucking he’ll make u get separate rooms for the rest of the season lmao_.

“That’s not fair,” Patrik snickers, but he sits up and stretches his arms up anyway, relishing the pop of his spine. “We’re not even fucking.”

“Bet you if we told them that nobody would believe us.”

They do end up making the bus.

Barely.

* * *

It turns out there are a lot of things they need to have prepared before they have the first consultation with the wedding planner. There’s the list the planner gave herself, and then there’s another email Caroline sends them that makes Patrik’s head swim just looking at it. There are links to checklists of wedding preparation venue ideas and about three different Pinterest boards that Caroline apparently whipped up the second she heard her big brother was getting married.

Patrik’s grateful. Also kind of terrified. Apparently Caroline’s got the same intensity for weddings that Nikolaj has during hockey games.

The easiest part is deciding on a time frame; somewhere within the last two weeks of July, depending on what’s available. Patrik would prefer earlier than later, just to give them even more time for a honeymoon, but he also has no idea how quickly wedding venues are booked up. It’s a safer bet having a bunch of possibilities.

Then they put together a potential guest list. Immediate family, obviously, with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins all included. Then team, and plus ones for anyone who’ll need them. Both of them add a few non-hockey friends, and some non-team hockey players.

Nikolaj types up the name _Georg Olsen_ , and Patrik can’t help but narrow his eyes at the computer screen. Stupid Danish superstar.

“Get over it, you big baby,” Nikolaj says when he notices. “He’s got a girlfriend now, anyway, he’s not gonna try and steal me away or whatever you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” Patrik says, a bit too defensively. Realistically, he knows Nikolaj’s right. But Olsen has that stupid crooked grin and he’s tall and blond the way Nikolaj likes and he just really ramps up Patrik’s desire to remind everyone around him exactly who Nikolaj belongs to. 

Nikolaj sighs dramatically, like he’s not so obviously into Patrik’s possessive streak. “Think of it this way, bud, he’s gonna see us getting married. I think that’ll say pretty obviously that I’m yours, or whatever.”

Okay, yeah. That helps.

So, they have a date range, and they have a guest list, and they have the vague understanding that their budget is more or less limitless. Then comes the more difficult stuff that Caroline assigned them like homework; figuring out possible venues, deciding on a colour scheme, outlining whether they want something expensive and fancy or chill and casual.

Part of Patrik doesn’t give a shit about decor or style, because the actual marriage itself is really the important part. But the rest of him wants their wedding to be beautiful, the kind where all the pictures come out looking like they’re from some gorgeous movie set. They’ve got the money for it, and they can really only get married once. Might as well make it a party worth remembering.

Caroline’s Pinterest boards are filled with a bunch of different colour schemes and decorations and floral arrangements. It’s all kind of overwhelming, honestly.

At least one thing’s an easy decision. “We have to have blue, right?” Nikolaj asks while they’re on the bus to the airport one night, scrolling past a bunch of pictures of cream-coloured table decorations and pale yellow flowers. “Jets blue.”

Patrik squeezes his hand around Nik’s thigh and nuzzles into his hair. “I think so, yeah. Legally.”

Then Nikolaj does something neither of them have dared try yet. He ventures away from Caroline’s carefully curated boards and types _navy blue wedding_ into the search bar. A whole shitload of results pop up and Patrik already has a headache just looking at it. He presses a kiss to Nikolaj’s temple and breathes in the pleasant, subtle scent of his shampoo, absently tracing circles onto Nik’s thigh. 

“Jesus,” Nikolaj drags out, scrolling through so fast it’s all a blur of blue and white. “This is so complicated.”

It probably doesn’t help that they just lost their afternoon game, and it’s the fourth game in a losing streak. Patrik’s not in a mood to do much of anything except maybe nap, kick Nikolaj’s ass at video games, and take out his frustration in some other more creative ways. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he murmurs as a reminder, slouching a little in his seat, staring out the window over Nikolaj’s head as the bright lights of Vegas zoom past. “At least we decided on blue.”

They don’t end up talking about it until a couple days later, because there’s cards on the plane and consolatory post-loss handjobs in the hotel shower and another game the very next day. The entire team comes out angry and ready to prove something and they win 5-0, and Patrik gives Nikolaj a very enthusiastic hat trick blowjob as celebration.

Later, they cuddle up together with a laptop and finally look up what colours pair best with navy blue for a summer wedding. Patrik didn’t even know there were different colours for different seasons, but apparently that’s a whole _thing_. It’s daunting, but also kind of fun, trying to narrow down what colours they like best, what they can imagine using for one of the biggest moments of their lives. They end up deciding on a soft, dusty pink as the second main colour, because it’s pretty, and because it’s subtle enough to go well with a lot of things. They’re also supposed to decide accent colours, whatever those are, but . . . Patrik’s fine with leaving that for the wedding planner to help decide.

Their first meeting with the wedding planner is on December 1st. Nikolaj’s pacing around in front of the kitchen table while they wait for 11 AM to roll around, fiddling with his fingers, reaching up to tug a hand through his hair every so often. He’s so obviously nervous that it’s making Patrik’s head hurt. Obviously Patrik’s nervous too—this is big, and this is _official_ —but it’s easy to shove that fluttery feeling away and focus on the excitement. 

“Hey,” he says eventually. “Sit down.”

“Shut up,” Nikolaj snaps, but he collapses in the chair next to Patrik. “This is just . . . real big, Patty.”

Patrik smirks at him. “You never had a problem with big before.”

Nikolaj gapes at him, the tips of his ears going bright red. “Are you serious? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.” He shakes his head in disbelief, staring at the laptop screen in front of them. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You’re stupid too,” Patrik points out. “Seriously, Niky, relax. Everything is gonna go fine.”

Nikolaj takes a slow, deep breath. “I know. It’s just a lot.”

Yeah. Patrik gets the feeling. Sometimes nothing will be going on at all, and then he’ll look at Nikolaj and remember that they’re gonna get married, and it’s like his heart stops beating in his chest and his lungs don’t work anymore. That’s hard to put into words, though, so he just reaches over to pat Nikolaj’s thigh comfortingly. Then he keeps it there, because Nik still looks like he might float away without a solid weight holding him down.

At exactly 11 AM the prompt to accept a video call pops up. Patrik presses it immediately, and a few seconds later there’s a very pale blonde woman staring at them through the computer screen.

They know her name from the email, but she introduces herself as Eva Nygaard in a faint Danish accent and thanks them for choosing to work with her.

“Well, y’know, Caroline recommended you,” Nikolaj says, speaking a little slower, like he’s talking to the media and trying to figure out how not to sound like an idiot. “And she knows we have no idea how to plan a wedding, so I’ve gotta trust her judgement.” He grins a little, and Patrik squeezes his thigh encouragingly.

Eva smiles. She looks a lot less intimidating when she smiles, but still. Very intimidating. “She did tell me you would need . . . extra guidance. Which I am happy to provide.” She shuffles something around off-screen. “I’ve looked over what you sent me so far, and I think I have a few ideas, if you would like to hear them.”

“Yes,” Patrik says, at the same time as Nikolaj blurts out, “please.”

From there it’s all sort of a whirlwind of options. Eva suggests accent colour combinations and a whole bunch of possible venues and their accompanying hotels and potential vendors. She patiently walks them through everything she presents, with the reassurance that she’ll send it all over an email so they can take the time to think about it and decide on their own time.

By the time she’s wrapping up, an hour’s gone by, and all the pictures of beautiful venues and wedding decor are starting to bleed together in Patrik’s head. Thank fuck Caroline bullied them into using a wedding planner. If they had to do this alone Patrik would just drag Nikolaj out to city hall tomorrow, and accept the consequences.

Eva leaves them with the homework of picking a venue and deciding on their accent colours before they talk again next week. She signs off with a bright smile and a fluttery little wave, and then Patrik’s staring at a blank computer screen and all his tension leaves him in a long, exhausted breath.

“Fuck,” Nikolaj says.

“Yeah.”

“ _Fuuuck_.” Nikolaj drags both hands down his face, slouching so far his ass is almost off the chair. He peeks out at Patrik through his fingers. “Why are weddings so complicated?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I need to thank Caroline again,” Nikolaj says, scratching at his beard and scowling at the computer screen.

“Yeah, probably.” They should probably start figuring out the things Eva assigned for them, but. Patrik’s brain is pretty much dead on anything wedding-related for the rest of the day. He shouldn’t be making any decisions in the state he’s in. Instead he angles his body towards Nik’s, puts a hand high up on his thigh, and asks, “wanna make out for a bit then go get McDonald’s for lunch?”

“Patty,” Nikolaj says, intense as Patrik’s ever heard him, “I love you.”

* * *

For some reason, Mathieu thought it’d be a good idea to bring two Uno decks on the plane. Maybe when his family plays it they’re not literally willing to draw blood over a +4, because his family isn’t six ultra-competitive hockey players who never learned when to quit. Patrik’s lost count of how many times Sami—sitting directly to his left—has quietly threatened to disfigure him in increasingly violent and creative ways. It’s bad enough that Ben keeps glancing over to their table in confused concern, like he’s not quite sure he’s understanding the Finnish right.

Well, it’s not Patrik’s fault he keeps picking up good cards. And it’s not his fault that Nikolaj keeps playing +2s on his right. What is he supposed to do, _not_ stack it and instead take the two cards?

Then Brandon switches the direction, Sami plays a +4 with a triumphant grin, and Patrik's left staring at his hand and the card pile with a decision to make. “Patty,” Nikolaj murmurs, his eyes narrowed and a threat clear in his voice, “don’t you fucking dare. Remember all those cards I _didn’t_ play when you couldn’t stack them? I haven’t fucked you over _once_ this whole game.”

Patrik grins. “Sorry, Fly,” he says, and plays his +4. “I don’t want to lose.”

Nikolaj makes this offended noise, and the entire card table bursts out laughing as he draws eight cards. “Fuck you, Patrik. I’m so done with you. The wedding’s off.”

“Good. I only marry winners.”

Nikolaj kicks him in the leg. “You smug piece of shit. I’m gonna destroy you.”

Before Nikolaj can play a card, Adam slams his hand palm-down on the table hard enough the draw pile falls apart. “Uh, can we go back a step?” He glances between Patrik and Nikolaj, eyebrows raised. “Did I hear you guys mention a wedding?”

“Yeah, I heard that too,” Mark says from across the plane, finally tearing his eyes away from whatever he and Blake are watching. He smiles expectantly. “Do you guys maybe have something you want to share?”

“Well we don’t have an exact date yet,” Patrik says, sharing a look with Nikolaj. Nik shrugs. “But it’ll be sometime in the last two weeks of July? We don’t have our venue decided yet either but it’s somewhere in Denmark.”

Somehow it seems like the entire plane has gone silent. Patrik glances around to see everyone—literally _everyone_ —staring at them. Some in disbelief, some with big grins. Kyle in particular looks kind of offended, like he expected to be told first because of their Talented Young Guns group bond from years ago. And honestly, after all the bullshit he’s had to put up with from them, he probably deserved it. Patrik shrugs at him, half-apologetic, but Kyle just shakes his head in semi-serious disappointment.

“Wait,” Blake says, his tone already dipping into the full Dad Voice. “Are you two actually getting married?”

Nikolaj lightly kicks Patrik’s ankle under the table, grinning. “That’s the plan.”

“Shit, really?” Adam looks between them for a second, before his face breaks out into a grin and he winds an arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Congratulations. That’s awesome.”

Chaos erupts as everyone suddenly tries being the first and the loudest to congratulate them. It’s really just a lot of noise all at once. Patrik can’t help his grin, and he can’t stop glancing back at Nikolaj just to see the almost startled smile on his face. It’s adorable, like he has no idea what to do with all the attention but he’s happy to be getting it.

Patrik wonders how crazy their wedding’s gonna be, if there’s this much chaos over just the vague announcement that it’s happening, and the thought makes him feel a little breathless. 

Eventually everything calms down. Kind of. They land in San Jose and board the bus; Patrik manhandles Nikolaj into a window seat and leans up against him, and Nikolaj pulls out his phone so they can look at the accent colours Eva recommended and finally decide which ones they want. Then Jack comes over to see what they’re doing, and _that_ of course leads to everyone offering their (mostly unwanted) opinions.

They get to the hotel, and Blake lingers by the elevator even as Mark heads up. “Nik, Patty,” he calls as they approach, stepping away from where he’s leaning against the wall, “can I talk to you two?”

“Sure,” Nikolaj says, rolling his shoulders, wincing when his spine pops. Patrik drops the hand he had curled around the back of Nikolaj’s neck, rubbing it at the knot of tension between his shoulder blades instead. Nikolaj leans into it with an inaudible little sigh. “What’s up?”

For a second Blake’s silent as he looks between them, his soft smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t get the chance to do this properly on the plane, but I wanted to congratulate you.” His grin quirks wider. “I’m pretty sure I knew you two would end up married the second I saw you interact for the first time, so it’s nice to see all that time spent waiting finally pay off.” 

Patrik wonders if Blake’s exaggerating, or if he really could tell. Knowing them—how Patrik was immediately possessive over Nikolaj, even if it was more or less platonic in the early days—he probably at least had the idea. “We’re happy to meet expectations, Sir,” Patrik says, only resisting the urge to sarcastically salute because he’s still massaging some of the tension out of Nikolaj’s spine. 

Blake laughs, rolling his eyes, but his expression softens a second later. “Really, congratulations. You two belong together for the rest of your lives. And if you need any help with anything wedding-related—well, I’m not sure how much help I can be, honestly, but I’ll do what I can.” Despite his grin Patrik can tell how serious he is about it. That means a lot, especially from Blake; Patrik still vividly remembers feeling overwhelmed from every angle after they came out, and Blake being there at every turn.

Nikolaj must be thinking the same thing, because he steps away from Patrik to tug Blake into a one-armed bro hug. “Thanks, man.” The hug’s a little tighter and lingers a little longer than normal, and Patrik’s reminded that Nikolaj’s known Blake for almost ten years now, that at this point they’re basically family. 

The whole team is family, really. So when Blake lets Nik go and pulls Patrik in for a hug, Patrik squeezes the arm around his shoulders just a bit tighter than he usually would. 

Blake asks a few thoughtful questions about the wedding on the elevator ride up. Whether they’ve thought about their wedding party yet, if they’re gonna make a gift registry, stuff they haven’t even started thinking about yet. Stuff they probably _should_ think about, but. They still need to decide _where_ they’re gonna have the wedding.

“That was less crazy than I thought it’d be,” Nikolaj says once they’re in their hotel room. “I thought we were gonna get mobbed.”

“Just wait until the, ah,” Patrik waves his hand as he collapses backwards on the bed, searching for the word, “bachelor party.” He’s not at all surprised when Nikolaj falls next to him, his weight jostling the mattress. “That’s gonna be crazy, I bet.”

Nikolaj huffs out a laugh, arching his back up off the bed as he stretches out his shoulders. “Hopefully there aren’t any strippers,” he says, before rolling over so he’s half on top of Patrik’s body, his face tucked against Patrik’s shoulder. “That’d be awkward.” He throws a leg over Patrik’s hip so Patrik instinctively grabs his thigh, and he’s about to dig his fingers in and haul Nik on top of him properly when there’s a knock on the door.

It really only makes Patrik pause for a second, before he’s tugging Nikolaj over anyway. “Ignore that.”

Nikolaj steadies himself with hands on Patrik’s ribcage. “I was planning on it.” He mouths at Patrik’s throat, teeth dragging over skin, and Patrik’s fingers press into his thighs hard enough to hurt. Nikolaj shudders, hands fisting in Patrik’s shirt. “Help me take this off,” he murmurs, shoving up the sides of Patrik’s shirt. “I wanna—”

More knocking, this time even louder. Patrik really, really doesn’t want to answer it.

So he doesn’t, instead dragging his hands up Nik’s thighs and grabbing his ass. “Just ignore it,” he says, tugging Nikolaj’s hips down and grinding up against him, grinning breathlessly when Nikolaj chokes out a tiny noise against his skin. “Whoever it is will go away eventually.”

Then there’s a knock that’s not so much knocking as it is someone repeatedly slamming their fist against the door, and a muffled shout of, “I know you can hear me, don’t fucking ignore me.”

Nikolaj groans against Patrik’s jaw. Then he sits up, hands balanced low on Patrik’s abdomen, and Patrik props himself up on his elbows to glare at the door. “I don’t think we can ignore that,” Nikolaj whines, pouting at Patrik like it’s _his_ fault. “Sounds like KC.” 

“I bet we could drown him out,” Patrik says, but Nikolaj’s already climbing off and getting up, adjusting himself a bit in his pants. “Don’t let him in, just make him go away.”

Nikolaj levels a glare at him. “You’re gonna make me go get the door?”

“You can do it, babe, I believe in you.”

“Fuck you.” He heads over to the door anyway, while Patrik tugs down his shirt and sits up properly. Nik opens the door and sure enough Kyle’s on the other side, looking thoroughly disapproving. “What do you want?”

Kyle narrows his eyes at Nikolaj, then glares at Patrik over Nik’s shoulder. Patrik gives him the finger. “You guys didn’t tell me you were getting married.”

Nikolaj sighs. Patrik can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “We’re still figuring this out, KC. We didn’t wanna make an announcement until we at least kinda knew what we were doing.”

Kyle makes some dismissive noise, and steps past Nikolaj before he can get in the way. Wow. Useless. “The other guys don’t matter, you didn’t tell _me_.” He leaves Nikolaj staring after him in the doorway and storms right over to the bed to sit down and cross his arms _at_ Patrik. 

Patrik narrows his eyes right back. “We didn’t say you could come in.”

“Too late, I’m here already.”

Patrik glances at Nikolaj, giving him a _look_ , and Nik makes a face. Patrik’s so gonna make Nik pay for letting Kyle into the room. He’s not sure how, yet, but he’ll figure something out. Then he turns back to Kyle, who’s just sitting on their bed and staring at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised. “We were gonna fuck, KC,” Patrik snaps, as though Kyle probably hasn’t already guessed. “We’re _busy_.”

Kyle wrinkles up his nose, but he doesn’t budge. “You don’t tell me about your wedding, I cockblock you. Fair’s fair.”

Finally, Nik decides to enter the conversation, stomping over his with arms crossed and an incredulous glare on his face. “How is _that_ fair?” 

“It is,” Kyle maintains. “Anyway, you can make it up to me. Just let me be in the wedding party and we’re even.” 

In a weird way, it’s kind of sweet, that Kyle obviously cares so much about being part of their wedding. Patrik’s not feeling especially generous, since he’s not currently fucking around with his fiance, but he can kind of appreciate the sentiment behind what Kyle’s doing. He’s still pissed about it, but. He appreciates it. And now that he’s thinking about it, he _does_ want Kyle in the wedding party. They were rookies together.

“You can be in our wedding party,” he says, looking to Nikolaj for confirmation, getting a shrug and a nod in return, “if you help pick our accent colours.”

“Deal.”

“Fly, go get my laptop.”

Nikolaj scoffs at him. “Seriously? You get it.”

“You’re already standing.”

Rolling his eyes, Nikolaj takes the extra step forward and sits his ass down on the bed between Patrik and Kyle. “Not anymore, asshole,” he says, leaning back on one hand, tugging out his phone with the other. “Go get your own stupid computer.”

Kyle snorts, flashing Patrik a smug grin. “That’s it, Nik, don’t reinforce his bad behaviour.”

Patrik gives them both the finger and stands up to go grab his laptop from his bag. Nik scoots over to make room for him when he comes back, leaning up against his side when Patrik takes a seat between them. “We’re stuck between these two,” he says, opening up the pictures Eva sent them of the two possible colour schemes. It’s between silver and pale green, and peach and a pale rose gold. “Pick one, and you get to be in the wedding party.”

“The bright pink one,” Kyle says immediately.

Patrik almost corrects him, because it’s not pink. It’s peach.

“That was fast,” Nikolaj says. “Why that one?”

Kyle just shrugs. “The green is nice, but it’s way too sophisticated for you guys. Those are the kind of colours Mark and Blake would have at a wedding, and no offense, but you guys are definitely not Mark and Blake.” He points at the little swatch of peach on Patrik’s screen. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in a shirt this exact colour, Patty, so there’s that, too.”

“Okay,” Patrik says, because he _does_ have a shirt that colour, “that’s fair.”

“So I’m in your wedding now, right?”

Patrik snaps his laptop shut and shoves it onto the bed behind him. “I guess so, yeah.”

Kyle nods. “Cool.” Then he stands up, comes to stand in front of them, and suddenly he’s leaning down and wrapping his arms around them in an awkward group hug. “Congrats. Seriously. I’m really happy for you guys.” Patrik pats him on the back, his hand finding Nik’s and covering it, and the hug lasts a few more seconds before Kyle pulls back. “I’ll leave you alone now. Try not to be late for morning skate tomorrow.”

“Fuck off, KC,” Nikolaj says with a bright smile. 

“Just saying, Paul might actually take away your room sharing privileges—”

Patrik very obviously puts his hand high on Nikolaj’s thigh and smirks up at Kyle. “Leave, or we’ll start anyway.” Nikolaj laughs, and Kyle’s face scrunches up in disgust, and Patrik digs his fingers into the skin of Nik’s inner thigh just to feel the muscle twitch under his palm. 

“Gross,” Kyle says. “I’m leaving. Please wait until the door’s closed, at least.”

He practically runs out of the room, and the second the door’s shut Nikolaj bursts out laughing. His whole body shakes with it and he grabs Patrik’s wrist for support, head tipping back, exposing his throat. Patrik’s eyes catch on the way his adam’s apple bobs, the way his shoulders tremble with his giggles. Fuck, he’s pretty when he laughs.

Patrik cups a hand around the side of Nik’s neck, leans in and bites hard, and suddenly Nikolaj’s not laughing anymore.

* * *

A lot happens in the weeks before the holiday break. They decide on a beachside hotel and an outdoor ceremony, and Eva gets them the venue and a hotel block for July 20th. They order and send out save the dates, which are apparently completely different from actual wedding invitations and pretty necessary for a destination wedding. They build up a list of people they want in their small wedding party—Nikolaj’s siblings and Patrik’s sister and Kyle, Mark and Blake—and ask them all. More and more pieces are falling into place, and it’s starting to feel _real_.

They’re lounging on their bed at home, looking over a few decor options Eva sent them on their phones, when Nikolaj breathes out harshly through his nose and asks, “have you thought about names?” He says it all in one breath, like he’s desperate to get the words out, and his Danish accent comes through a little stronger towards the end.

Patrik glances up from some floral arrangement, but Nikolaj’s not looking at him, instead scratching his jaw and staring at his lap. “Names.”

“Yeah.” His shoulders are curling in, back hunched over, head tucked down so he looks a lot smaller than he is. “Y’know, like, after we get married. I was thinking—what do you feel about Ehlers-Laine?” Finally, he looks up, and his expression’s more than just nervous—it’s _hopeful_. For some reason it makes Patrik’s heart hurt.

Maybe it’s tactless, but the first thing he thinks to say is, “why is your name first?”

Nikolaj’s face breaks out in a grin that’s half sincere, half smug. It’s an infuriatingly good look on him, and Patrik wants to kiss it off. “Because it sounds better like that, duh.” Then his eyes go a bit wide, and the tension creeps back into his shoulders. “And, uh, it’s not like we have to do it. I was just thinking about it. But if you wanna keep our names, we can do that too, it’s fine.” 

He . . . cares a lot about this. Patrik hasn’t thought about it at all.

“I didn’t know you’d want to do that,” Patrik says, carefully watching the way Nikolaj’s lips press together, the way his narrow fingers twist in the loose fabric of Patrik’s shirt where it’s pooled at his waist. “We’re kind of . . . tied to our names, with hockey and everything.” 

Nikolaj huffs out a laugh. He’s staring at his hands again. “That’s kinda why I want to do it.”

Confused, Patrik shuffles closer, until he can settle a hand comfortably on Nikolaj’s knee. “Tell me?”

Nikolaj meets his gaze, his eyes big and blue, a pretty pink flush creeping up his cheeks. “Names are really big, for hockey players.” His hand covers Patrik’s almost thoughtlessly, fingers twitching nervously over Patrik’s knuckles. Honestly, he looks kind of miserable, staring at a point just above Patrik’s eyes. Patrik finds it hilarious. And adorable. Nikolaj can probably see that on Patrik’s face, because his cheeks go even redder and his mouth twists into a scowl. “Shut up. Don’t—don’t say anything, but—I want your name on me. And my name on you.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Or maybe like being hit by a car. All the air leaves Patrik’s lungs in a ragged breath and he stares, wide-eyed, at the defiant, embarrassed expression on Nikolaj’s face. “Fuck, Niky,” he murmurs, a little bit breathless, “you can’t just say that.”

Nikolaj narrows his eyes and goes even redder. “You say shit like that all the time.”

Well, yeah, but. It’s different.

“I’m not against it,” Patrik says, scooting even closer, his hand sneaking up Nikolaj’s thigh. “I’m _really_ not against it.” He imagines both of them in jerseys with Ehlers-Laine on the back. More specifically, he imagines _Nikolaj_ with Ehlers-Laine on his back. The dizzying heat that hits him is like when Nik wears his jerseys—but this is deeper, more staggering, because it’ll be _Nik’s_ jersey telling the whole fucking world who he belongs to. It’ll be _real_ , not just an indulgence of Patrik’s possessive streak. “Fuck,” he mutters, then he gets a hand around the back of Nikolaj’s neck and drags them together for a kiss.

Nikolaj whimpers into it, hand latching around Patrik’s forearm for support. “ _Knew it_ ,” he pants out, somehow sounding smug and flustered at the same time. It’s a problem, because Patrik doesn’t want Nikolaj anywhere _near_ coherent. He wants to fuck him up so bad all he can manage to say is Patrik’s name.

He surges forward, so sudden Nikolaj gasps when his back hits the mattress. “Shut up,” Patrik says against his lips, before shoving a tongue down his throat and hitching Nik’s thigh up around his hip. Nikolaj moans, using whatever leverage he has to grind up against him, grasping at Patrik’s bicep with one hand and his shoulder with the other. Smug pride wells up in Patrik’s chest, because it’s still so fucking easy for him to get Nikolaj gagging for it.

They make out for a while, hips rolling in a familiar rhythm. Patrik’s losing his mind with how much he wants. Slowly, the fever builds, until Patrik’s hot all over and can’t take all the layers between their bare skin. He wants to touch and hold and _own_.

Nikolaj whines when he breaks the kiss and sits back on his haunches, pawing at Patrik’s waist until Patrik grabs his wrists and pins both hands to his stomach. “So needy,” Patrik coos, smirking when Nikolaj manages a shaky glare. It’s cute, how hard he tries to keep his dignity. “Be patient, Niky, I don’t want to be rushed.”

Nikolaj scoffs, and even that sounds breathless. “You think I care what you want?”

“Yeah, of course you do.” Patrik’s hands tuck up under the shirt Nikolaj’s wearing, splaying over his bare skin, fingertips digging into the muscles of his abdomen to feel them flex. “You like giving me what I want.” He grins, a little bit mean, and presses down hard enough on Nik’s stomach that he wheezes. “You like being good for me. Both of us know it.” The wide-eyed, vulnerable look Nikolaj gives him is enough to make Patrik feel drunk.

Nikolaj also doesn’t say anything, which is as good as agreeing. 

Patrik runs his hands up further, nails dragging up over the grooves of Nik’s ribs, pulling the shirt up. “Take this off,” he says, soft enough that it’s not really a command. Nikolaj complies anyway, arching his back to wrestle the shirt off while Patrik leans over him to reach into the bedside table for the lube. When he settles back into place between Nikolaj’s thighs, Nik’s shirtless and his hands are lingering near the hem of his sweats, like he’s waiting for Patrik’s permission. Patrik grins. “Those too.”

The flush spreads down to Nikolaj’s chest. “Shut up,” he snaps, “I was about to.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

A bit awkwardly, they manage to pull Nik’s sweats off together, and Patrik narrowly avoids getting kicked in the face. Then Patrik takes a moment to stare, just because he can.

“Hey,” Nikolaj says, nudging Patrik in the ribs with his knee, not quite meeting his eyes. “Cut it out.” He reaches out to grab Patrik’s shirt. “Yours too, Patty—”

“Nope.” Patrik grabs his wrists again, fingers digging in tight. Nikolaj puts up a bit of resistance but it’s so goddamn easy to overpower him, to wrestle his arms up near his head and pin them to the mattress. Patrik’s grin tugs even wider when a shudder wracks through Nikolaj’s body, his fingers grasping uselessly at nothing, chest heaving as he hiccups in air. “You need to stop trying to be so bossy, Niky. It never works.” The way Nikolaj’s staring up at him, caught somewhere between defiant and pliant, is a little bit irresistible. Patrik can’t really help the way he leans down and kisses him, hard and messy enough that both of them groan. 

It takes actual effort for Patrik to pull away and sit back on his haunches. Nikolaj’s still melted against the bed, eyes shut and lips parted as he breathes, hands resting up near his head like Patrik’s still pinning him down. _Fuck_. That’s probably the hottest part about it, how thoroughly _owned_ he looks.

“You’re mine,” Patrik murmurs, almost without thinking, and Nikolaj shudders. “So good like this.” He runs both hands up Nikolaj’s thighs, up his waist, back down to grip at his hips tight enough to bruise.

Then, because Nikolaj looks way too comfortable lying on his back, Patrik bends up one of his legs and flips him over onto his knees.

“ _Fuck_ —” The end of the curse ends up muffled in the sheets as Nikolaj loses his balance, arms crumpled beneath him until he manages to struggle back up onto his elbows and glare invitingly at Patrik over his shoulder. “Patty, _warning_ —” And it breaks off into a whine, when Patrik leans down to sink his teeth into the meat of his ass.

“Stop trying to direct,” Patrik tells him with a hushed little laugh, pressing a soft kiss to the bite mark. Then he straightens up again, dragging the heel of his hand up Nikolaj’s spine, feeling the shiver of muscles beneath his palm. “And this—” He shoves down right between Nikolaj’s shoulderblades—right where the name would be, on a jersey, right where it’d say he’s Patrik’s—until Nikolaj’s arms collapse and his cheek presses against the mattress, back arched almost obscenely. “This is better.”

“Jesus,” Nikolaj mumbles. “Just—can you get on with it?” His eyes squeeze shut, face twisting up as his flush grows redder. “Please?”

Patrik snickers, grabbing the lube and popping the cap off. “I guess so, since you asked so nicely.”

“Fuck you, Patty.”

Fine. If Nik wants to act like that, Patrik can play along. He gets a generous amount of lube on his fingers and doesn’t even pause to let it warm up a little before grabbing Nikolaj’s hip and slipping a finger knuckle-deep in his ass. Nikolaj chokes out a moan, hips rocking back, thighs trembling when Patrik crooks his finger. “Shh, Niky,” Patrik says, petting the back of Nik’s thigh with his other hand.

He rushes through prep, because he’s so hard it’s making him dizzy. All of this is getting him going—the arch of Nikolaj’s spine, the way he’s naked and Patrik’s not, all the little whimpers he’s half-muffling against the mattress. Apparently Nikolaj’s feeling the same, because Patrik’s barely started stretching him with two fingers when he reaches back carelessly and groans out, “that’s good enough, Patty, _fuck_ , that’s enough.”

It’s probably not, but Nikolaj’s a grown-up, he can make his own decisions. At least they don’t have a game for a few days.

Patrik slips his fingers free, tugs his sweats down enough to free his dick, and wastes no time lining himself up and pressing in. It’s immediately overwhelming, because Nikolaj’s warm and _tight_ and keeps whining through his teeth like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Fuck,” Patrik whispers, gripping Nikolaj by the hips, working his dick inside with shallow little thrusts. “You’re so—you’re so fucking hot, Nik, _fuck_.”

Nikolaj giggles, shaky and breathless. “You’re big,” he slurs. “Wanna feel more.”

Fucking hell, Patrik can’t say no to _that_. He grabs Nikolaj too hard and thrusts forward too fast, bottoming out with a groan, breathing hard as electricity races through his body. 

A noise somewhere between a whine and a sigh slips loose from Nikolaj’s lips, and he opens his eyes, angling his head so he’s looking Patrik in the eye. His expression’s challenging and submissive all at once, lighting a fire at the base of Patrik’s spine, and his voice is already cracking when he says, “ _more_ , Patty.”

So Patrik pulls out slow, and thrusts back in hard enough Nikolaj cries out. He does it again, again, building up a harsh rhythm, giving Nikolaj everything he’s asking for and more. He fucks Nikolaj until Nik’s gone mindless with it; hands twisting in the sheets, babbling nonsense that’s mostly cursing and Patrik’s name, rocking back against every thrust. It’s driving Patrik out of his mind, how wrecked Nikolaj is, the fact that it’s _Patrik_ making him so wild and shameless.

“‘M close,” Nikolaj mumbles, and Patrik’s really not sure why _that_ riles him up so much.

It’s surprisingly easy, hauling Nikolaj up so they’re pressed back to chest. Patrik wraps an arm around Nikolaj’s waist, splays a hand wide on his stomach, runs it up his chest to tug at a nipple. Nikolaj mewls, head tipping back against Patrik’s shoulder, and the stretch of his neck is so fucking inviting. “Tap out if you need,” Patrik murmurs against Nikolaj’s jaw, before trailing his hand up even further and wrapping it around Nikolaj’s throat.

As expected Nikolaj goes crazy, grabbing at Patrik’s wrist, his moan breaking in his throat when Patrik tightens his grip. Patrik fucks up into him, rolling his hips against Nikolaj’s ass. He can feel Nik’s pulse beneath his fingers, every wheeze as he struggles to breathe, and it’s enough to make his head swim. The control he has, the _trust_ Nik’s putting in him—it’s dizzying.

“C’mon, Niky,” he says, turning his head to bite at Nikolaj’s jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

“P-Patty,” Nikolaj manages.

Patrik squeezes tighter, and Nikolaj comes with a ragged, breathless whine.

“So good,” Patrik murmurs, fucking him through it, slowly releasing the pressure on his throat. “So good for me, Niky.” He lowers Nikolaj down carefully, settling him back on the mattress, a hand at his belly to keep his hips propped up. Nikolaj’s completely boneless, just letting Patrik arrange him however he wants. “I love you like this, you’re so pretty—”

He cuts himself off with a groan, fucking into Nikolaj even harder, building on the same brutal pace from before. It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to build and he chases the feeling, losing his rhythm, digging his fingers too hard into Nikolaj’s hips as he comes so hard his vision blurs.

After a second, when Patrik can actually feel all his limbs, he opens his eyes to see Nikolaj’s entire body trembling so hard it looks painful. “Look at you,” he says softly, hands sweeping up and down Nikolaj’s sides. Nikolaj whimpers when he pulls out, and Patrik almost feels bad about how sore his hips must be, so once he’s tucked himself away he helps Nikolaj settle on his side and pets down the length of his spine. “I’ll be right back.”

He ambles into the bathroom on slightly unsteady legs, wetting a washcloth and grabbing a glass of water that he sets on the bedside table when he comes back into the bedroom. Then he climbs onto the bed, bullying Nikolaj onto his back so he can wipe down the mess of come on his stomach, tossing the gross washcloth into the bathroom to be cleaned up later. He’s got more important shit to do right now. Like rolling Nik onto his side and pressing up against his back, an arm wrapped around his waist and a leg tucked between his thighs.

“Fuck,” Nikolaj croaks, and Patrik grins against the back of his neck. “Ow.”

“You want water?”

Nikolaj lets out a long, ragged breath. “In a bit,” he says slowly. “Let me just . . .”

A comfortable silence settles between them. Patrik kisses the top of Nikolaj’s spine, tightening his arm when Nik shivers and sighs. Now that the frantic heat’s cooling off, all he can think about is holding Nikolaj close, keeping him forever. He still remembers what started this.

After a while has passed, after Patrik’s murmured Finnish endearments into Nikolaj’s skin and held him through the trembling, Nikolaj pulls away and props himself up enough to gulp down half of the water. Then he rolls back into Patrik’s arms, and asks, “so, what the fuck was all that?”

Okay. That’s fair. “Sorry,” Patrik says, even though he’s not really sorry at all. “I . . . maybe went a little overboard.”

Nikolaj scoffs, the sound breaking in his throat. “ _Maybe_.”

“Probably.”

“Fucking definitely, Patty.”

Patrik snickers, ignoring the offended noise Nikolaj manages to make. “Probably,” he insists, just to piss Nik off. And then, because he also wants to make Nikolaj melt, he kisses the nape of his neck and says, “I _really_ like the idea of sharing a name. I like the idea of you wearing my name forever.”

Nikolaj shudders. “I kinda figured.”

“It’s like—” He pauses, wrapping his fingers loosely around Nik’s left wrist and tugging so both of their arms are outstretched. “Like the tattoos, right?” When he spreads his fingers, both of their tattoos are visible, and Nikolaj makes a broken noise in the back of his throat. “It’s permanent. It says you belong to me, and I belong to you.”

“Yeah,” Nikolaj says quietly, his voice raw and ragged. “I’m yours, you’re mine.” The words strike a chord in Patrik’s chest and he threads their fingers together, winding his arm back around Nik’s waist, nosing against the nape of his neck. He wants this moment forever; soft and sweet and sincere.

But he also can’t help saying, “commentators are probably gonna hate it, though,” and when Nikolaj wheezes out a laugh he considers it a win.

* * *

Bye week comes way too quickly, and Patrik’s kind of surprised he and Nikolaj managed to drag themselves out of hockey and wedding planning long enough to get a real estate agent and draft up a list of houses they want to tour. 

It’s only at the fourth house they’ve visited in a day that Patrik starts to think, _hey, maybe this one_. There are big windows like Nikolaj wants, a pool in the massive backyard and a pond-slash-lake beyond that. It’s got polished wooden floors and light-coloured walls and a vibe that’s modern and clean and welcoming. There’s a bar in the basement and a brand new kitchen and way too many bedrooms for a childless couple in their twenties that spends half of their time in another country, and Patrik’s kind of in love with it already.

The agent points out a bunch of stuff in the kitchen Patrik’s either noticed already or doesn’t really care about, and he listens vaguely while he imagines actually living in a place like this; sliding into one of the barstools for breakfast, moving around Nikolaj in the kitchen while they make dinner, bending Nikolaj over the counter and making him shake.

He doesn’t let himself think about that last thing in too much detail. Not the time.

“What do you think,” Patrik asks Nikolaj, when the agent’s left them alone in the master bedroom to let them explore on their own. Finally being alone with Nik’s making him feel a little bit like they own the place already, and there’s _not_ another person at the other end of the house. Which is, honestly, a super dangerous line of thought.

“Honestly?” Nikolaj sits down on the bed with a sigh, and tips his head up to grin at Patrik a bit sheepishly. “I dunno where you’re at, but . . . I kind of love it.” He curls his fingers in the comforter almost absent-mindedly. “I know it’s bigger than we need, and we don’t really know anything about buying a house, but. I want it anyway?”

Patrik grins, stepping into the space between Nikolaj’s legs, tilting up Nik’s chin to press a kiss to his mouth. “Me too.”

He lingers a bit too long, tasting mint toothpaste on Nikolaj’s lips, and eventually Nikolaj shoves him away and stands up. “Don’t get too carried away, big guy,” he says, huffing out a laugh. “We’re supposed to be looking at the house, not making out. We have to be, uh, responsible adults or whatever.”

“That’s no fun,” Patrik drawls, but he _doesn’t_ bully Nikolaj back down onto the bed the way he wants to, because he’s got a point.

The thing is, the more Patrik sees of the house, the more he wants it. Maybe it’s stupid to make a decision so fast, but Patrik’s always been the type to decide he wants something and go for it. It usually works out for him. And sure, this is a huge decision, but the house is big and open and bright, and Patrik could see himself coming home to this. Making a home with Nikolaj, here.

There’s a couple other houses to tour afterwards, and neither of them are quite right. Not enough natural light, too far from the arenas, no backyard. By the time they’re looking at the last house Patrik’s tired of the whole process. It kind of feels pointless, now.

They go out for dinner afterwards, tucking themselves away in a corner booth and ordering a pizza to share. It’s quiet and cozy, even though the restaurant’s full of half-drunk twenty-somethings taking advantage of the good deal on drinks. Nikolaj orders himself a couple drinks too. It loosens him up, makes him giggly and coy, playing footsie under the table and acting smug when Patrik comments on it. 

It feels like a normal date. Like they’re just two more twenty-somethings, the same as everyone else in here, not NHL stars. Patrik likes being a hockey player—it’s all he knows—but it’s kinda nice, being nobody every once in a while.

Nikolaj’s a tease at dinner and in the car ride home and in the elevator, and they stumble into the apartment already making out and laughing. They don’t even make it to bed. Instead, Nikolaj shoves Patrik down on the couch and climbs on top of him once he’s retrieved lube from the end table. It’s fun, when Nikolaj’s this kind of bossy, so Patrik lays back and murmurs absolute filth while Nikolaj fingers himself open.

Maybe Nikolaj’s still a bit tipsy, or maybe it’s something about technically being on vacation, because the way he sinks down on Patrik’s dick and moans aloud is wanton and shameless. He’s slow and lazy about it, hands braced on Patrik’s ribs, shuddering no matter where Patrik touches him. And when Patrik says, “look at me,” in a low, sure voice, Nikolaj does, with hazy blue eyes and a completely fucked-out expression on his face.

Nikolaj comes as soon as Patrik gets a hand on his dick. He hunches over and collapses against Patrik’s chest, and it doesn’t take much more than grabbing his hips and thrusting up into him a few times for Patrik to come too.

After a minute, Nikolaj shifts, and shivers when Patrik’s dick slips out. “Gross,” he mutters, muffled against Patrik’s shirt. “Why do you always have to come inside?”

“You could’ve grabbed a condom,” Patrik points out.

“Yeah, and you would’ve whined about it.”

Patrik frowns, even though Nik can’t see him. “It’s not whining.” He shoves his hands up under Nikolaj’s shirt, spreading wide across his back, feeling the way his chest expands as he shakily breathes. “And if you didn’t like it, then I wouldn’t do it. Just tell me not to next time and I won’t.”

“I will,” Nikolaj says quietly. It’s not convincing at all. “Next time.”

“I bet.”

He lets the quiet linger, for a little while. Nikolaj’s soft and small tucked up against him and sometimes Patrik likes just touching him, holding him close and sweeping hands over his skin with no prelude to anything else. And today’s been a busy fucking day, so. Patrik’s gonna appreciate the moment.

“Hey,” he says eventually, when Nikolaj’s breathing has slowed and he sounds like he’s moments away from falling asleep. “Should we wait to move into a house until after the honeymoon?” Doing it before the wedding would probably be too busy, if their experiences in planning so far are anything to go by.

“Uh.” Nikolaj’s back tenses up under Patrik’s hands. Then he barks out a laugh, muffled a bit against Patrik’s shirt. “Slow down, Patty,” he says, still a bit shaky with laughter. “We don’t even have a house yet. We haven’t decided on anything. We should probably do _that_ before we start figuring out, y’know, when we wanna do it.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Patrik says, because that’s fair. They’ve gone house-hunting _once_. Maybe he’s getting a bit ahead of himself. Still, he can’t help digging his fingers into the muscle of Nikolaj’s back and crooning, “we should do it after, so I can carry you across the threshold properly.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Nikolaj’s giggling, though. “I’m not your bride.”

“You’d make a pretty one.”

* * *

A lot happens in the next few weeks. They go suit shopping and decide on wedding decor and Eva helps them book a photographer and a florist. It feels like whenever they’re not playing hockey they’re planning the wedding, and Patrik’s starting to get a bit burnt out. He can tell Nikolaj is too. They’re both getting more frustrated, more easily, snapping at each other over stupid things and making it up to each other later. It’s annoying and fun and mostly exhausting.

They win a game in Vegas, and when they get back to their hotel room Nikolaj shoves Patrik’s laptop under the pillow and says, “not tonight, we’re going out tonight.” For once, Patrik actually agrees with him.

They end up in a nicer bar with a few of the other guys. It’s nice, finally getting the chance to unwind and just spend some time with the team outside of hockey. The tension Patrik’s been carrying around bleeds out slowly as he gets dragged into a stupid argument about some new TV show he’s only seen three episodes of. It’s hilarious, watching how worked up a half-drunk Ben gets when Patrik offers misinformed opinions with absolute certainty. 

“Patty, shut the fuck up,” Ben says eventually. “You—you have no idea what you’re talking about, have you even seen it?”

“It’s my favourite show,” Patrik deadpans, and Sami bursts out laughing.

Later, Nikolaj finds him again, clearly completely smashed after hanging out with the younger guys. He collapses sideways into Patrik’s lap, almost falling off and onto his ass before Patrik winds an arm around his waist to keep him stable. Drunk Nikolaj is a handful, but also kind of sweet, the way he fits his hand over the one Patrik has splayed over his stomach and leans over to press a clumsy kiss to Patrik’s jaw.

“Hi,” Patrik says, unable to hold back a grin. “Having fun?”

Nikolaj leans back a bit, so they’re looking at each other properly. “Let’s get married.”

Well, that’s endearing. Patrik grins wider, warmth swelling up in his chest. “We’re going to,” he says, petting at Nikolaj’s thigh with his other hand. “About four and a half months now, Niky.” He’s not gonna lie and say he’s not excited, but there’s something fun about the anticipation, too. “We have to wait until then.”

Nikolaj frowns, and shakes his head. “We should do it now,” he mumbles, his words even more drawn out than usual. “S’Vegas.”

Patrik laughs. “We can’t go out and get married right now. Eva will kill us.”

That just makes Nikolaj frown more. “So? We should do it. I wanna be done with it.” He threads his fingers between Patrik’s, squeezing tight. “Get it over with right now. Like, uh,” he pouts up at Patrik, figuring out the words, “ripping off a bandaid.”

Nikolaj’s still pouting adorably, and his body’s warm, but Patrik suddenly feels cold. What Nikolaj’s saying doesn’t feel right. ‘Ripping it off like a bandaid’ isn’t excitement. It isn’t anticipation. It’s Nikolaj wanting to get their wedding over with like it’s a bad thing. That _hurts_ , somewhere under Patrik’s ribs, a hollow, breathless feeling he doesn’t know what to do with. 

“We can’t,” he mutters, grateful that Nikolaj’s drunk enough he can’t hear the flatness of his voice. 

“We should,” Nikolaj insists, slurring his words a little. “We could go do it now, Patty, we _should_. We can get it done, so we don’t have to—”

“We’re _not_ ,” Patrik snaps. Maybe a bit too sharp, because the second it’s out of his mouth Nikolaj’s face goes all screwy and his eyes go big like he might actually cry. Then the moment passes, and his mouth twists into a scowl.

“Fine,” he says, shoving off Patrik’s hand, struggling out of Patrik’s lap. “ _Fine_. Whatever.”

He stumbles when he stands, and Patrik almost reaches out to steady him. But then Nikolaj rights himself and heads off to hang out with some other guys, and Patrik’s left all alone, wondering how long Nikolaj’s been seeing their wedding as something to get over with. What the extent of it is; whether Nikolaj’s just anxious or if it’s worse than that.

Patrik knows he should ask. They should talk about it, when Nikolaj’s sober and they’re both clear-headed. _Tomorrow_ , he promises himself.

The next morning, Nikolaj wakes up groggy and grumpy, and snuggles against Patrik on the bus to hide his face from the sun. He asks Patrik whether Eva’s gotten back to them about something wedding-related, like he didn’t say anything about it last night. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, just nerves, and he’s not dreading it. Maybe Patrik overreacted. They should still probably talk about it, because Nikolaj talking about the wedding makes the hollow feeling resonate in his chest.

Days pass, and they get busy with hockey, and gradually stop working on the wedding. Occasionally one of them will bring something up, and they’ll put in a cursory effort to make a bit of progress before they distract themselves with something else. It feels like they’re going in circles. Like they’re avoiding it.

_Get it over with right now. Like ripping off a bandaid_.

Patrik doesn’t ask.

* * *

They go see the house one more time as a formality, when they’ve got a few days off and nothing else to do. Last time they saw it they all but decided they’d be buying it. But this time it’s weird. Nikolaj’s staring at everything with a pinched look on his face, arms crossed over his chest, and he’s not saying much even when Patrik or the agent talk to him. 

The weird mood lasts the entire drive home, and as they’re heading back up into the apartment, and as Patrik’s pulling out his phone to tell their agent they want to make an offer. He looks at Nikolaj, waiting for confirmation, and Nikolaj just. Stares at his hands. He’s sitting on the couch, and there’s still a weird twist to his mouth and a furrow to his brow that’s making Patrik’s heart pound a little harder.

“Nik,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nikolaj says immediately. He’s lying. “I just. I dunno. I think maybe it’s too fast.”

Anxiety rears old and ugly in Patrik’s chest, pressing so tight it’s almost hard to breathe for a second. He takes a deep breath, letting the feeling settle, ignoring the fear climbing up his throat. “What’s the point in waiting?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket so he can curl his hands into fists.

Nikolaj scoffs, and finally meets Patrik’s eyes. The heat in his glare is so unexpected Patrik almost wants to take a step back. “Uh, so we’re not spending a million dollars on something we’re not sure about?” His tone’s venomous, and Patrik feels like he’s been dropped into the middle of a fight he didn’t start.

“Nikolaj,” Patrik drags out, totally confused, “we love this house.”

That just makes Nikolaj narrow his eyes. “ _You_ love it. You’re not actually in charge of this relationship, even though you like pretending you are.”

Patrik has no idea what the fuck is going on. It’s pissing him off. He doesn’t want to get pissed off. He breathes in again, slowly, and swallows down the anger building in his throat. “What are you even talking about?” It takes actual effort not to step closer, to use the considerable size he has on Nikolaj to loom over him and intimidate him, especially with Nik sitting down like he is. He’s not supposed to try and intimidate Nikolaj, not for _real_. “You love the house. You said you want it.”

Nikolaj lifts his chin, defiance blazing in his bright blue eyes. “Well, maybe I don’t anymore.”

It’s like they’re speaking different fucking languages. Patrik stares at Nikolaj, at the twitch in his jaw. All he wants is for this conversation—this _argument_ —to start making sense. “You’re being ridiculous?”

Something breaks in Nikolaj’s expression. His head drops, eyes locked on his hands again where they’re twisting on his lap. Part of Patrik wants to still Nik’s hands with his own, press him back and hold him down until he’s not radiating such obvious displeasure. Part of Patrik wants to shove at him until he’s roughed up, make him hurt for real.

He doesn’t do either of those things. Just stands there, waiting for Nikolaj to do _something_. The anxiety in his chest has been swallowed up by confusion, by frustration, by _anger_. Patrik doesn’t even understand the anger, just knows that Nikolaj’s always made him burn brighter, and right now everything usually holding his temper in check has been scorched away.

Finally Nikolaj looks up again. “Is this not enough for you anymore?” His tone’s accusing and vicious and Patrik has _no idea what’s going on_.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This!” Nikolaj gestures between them, at the room around them, never once taking his glare off Patrik. “Us! Why do you wanna change everything? Why are we doing this all at once? Is it not good enough anymore?”

It’s so fucking out of nowhere that Patrik’s almost speechless. “You’re fucking— _what_?”

Nikolaj surges to his feet and Patrik steps forward before he manages to squash the urge to shove him back down. “It was all _your idea_ ,” he spits, hands curled into fists at his sides, shoulders trembling. “Getting a house, and getting _married_ ,” he says it with a sneer, like it’s something bad. “You want all this new shit, all at once, it’s fucked up.”

Patrik’s pretty sure _he’s_ shaking now, too. “You wanted it too,” he says slowly, his accent thick. “You said yes to all of it.”

“That’s the fucking problem,” Nikolaj hisses, taking a step closer, pointing right at Patrik’s chest, “I never learned to say no to you. Nobody says no to you.” His whole body’s shaking, face flushed as he glares up at Patrik. “Maybe I need to figure out how.”

Patrik has the sudden thought that if he wanted to, he could _hurt_ Nikolaj, for real. Even the idea horrifies him. So he steps back, still glaring, hands still curled into tight fists at his sides.

“Maybe we should just cancel the whole fucking wedding,” he says. “Since apparently you think it’s something we should get over with.” Nikolaj’s eyes go wide. “In Vegas, you said we should just do it then. Ripping it off like a bandaid, right?” There’s too much acid in his voice but now that he’s started he can’t make it stop. “Are you regretting it that much? What are you scared of, Nik, are you really that much of a coward?”

“Shut the fuck up, you have no _fucking_ idea—” Nikolaj cuts himself off with a ragged growl, drags a hand up his face and back over his hair. “You always do this, you think that just because you want something I’ll want it too! It doesn’t fucking work like that!”

“‘Because I want something’—” Patrik barks out a humourless laugh. He steps forward again, glaring down at Nikolaj, some mean part of him thrilling at how small Nikolaj looks like this. He’s not sure what answer he’s expecting when he asks, “do you even still _want_ to get married?” He just knows that he wants to make Nikolaj _hurt_.

Then Nikolaj snarls, “ _I don’t fucking know_!” and Patrik’s entire universe collapses in on itself.

Silence stretches between them as they both stand there frozen. The anger bleeds out, and Patrik’s just left with a hollow feeling in his chest and a lump in the back of his throat. Everything that was making him stand taller than Nikolaj is gone, and now he just feels—small, somehow. It’s one of the worst things he’s ever felt. 

There’s a sharpness behind his eyes and he can’t even manage to look in Nikolaj’s direction. He starts moving, not sure what he’s doing until he’s pulled his coat from the front closet, until he’s grabbed his keys and his wallet, until he’s closed the apartment door behind him.

Nikolaj doesn’t say a goddamn word.

A short drive later, Patrik finds himself in the entryway of Blake and Mark’s apartment, pressing the buzzer for them to let him up with stiff, frigid fingers. When Blake’s voice crackles through the speakers, asking who’s there, Patrik says it’s him and doesn’t say anything else, because his throat’s still thick and he doesn’t know how much he can speak without it breaking. 

They let him up, and when Blake opens the door and sees whatever look is on Patrik’s face, his eyes go wide. “Hey,” he says softly, ushering Patrik in, closing a comforting hand over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Patrik shrugs. He tugs off his coat and toes off his shoes, stepping past Blake just so he’s not standing awkwardly in the entrance. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going, still. Everything kind of feels heavy, like the moment in an action movie where everything’s blurred and there’s a sharp ringing after an explosion.

He stops halfway into the living room. Blake catches up quickly, half-turning Patrik to face him. “Patty,” he says, his voice soft but serious. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

_I don’t know_ , Patrik almost says. Instead he pushes past Blake again, collapses onto the couch, leans forward with his elbows on his knees and stares at the floor. “I think I broke it,” he says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. Saying it makes the fragile thing in his chest break and he breathes out harshly, dragging a hand down his face, pressing his thumb into his eye to stop the prickly feeling of threatening tears. “Fuck.”

The couch shifts as Blake sits down beside him. “What do you mean?”

Patrik keeps staring at the floor. “Nik said he doesn’t wanna get married.” And sure, maybe that’s not exactly what he said, but. What else is Patrik supposed to get from that whole argument? What else is he supposed to get from Nikolaj telling him he’s impossible to say no to? What else is he supposed to get from ‘I don’t know’?

Blake makes this quiet, shocked noise. Patrik’s chest hurts just imagining the expression on his face. “Patty,” he says. His arm wraps around Patrik’s shoulders, and he tugs him in, until Patrik’s leaning up against him. It’s nice. Blake’s solid, and warm after the chill of outside. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

No, he doesn’t. Not really. But he tells Blake anyway. Every detail he can remember, from the inconsequential arguments they’d been having over wedding details to Nikolaj’s reluctance in Vegas to the entire fight from tonight. As he talks through it he’s reeling all over again, because he didn’t _know_. It all came out of nowhere. He thought the dumb arguments were just stress, because for him they were, and now—

Now Patrik’s not even sure he’s engaged anymore.

It’s not until he’s finished talking that he realizes he’s exhausted. The bone-deep sort of exhaustion that comes from being on edge for way too long, never getting a long enough moment to relax. Blake tells him he can sleep in the guest room—he doesn’t say it, but the unspoken _for as long as you need_ doesn’t go unnoticed, and Patrik hates the implications of that.

He eats Mark and Blake’s leftovers in awkward silence, then heads off to the guest room. The bed’s lonely when he strips down and climbs in. Patrik stares at the wall in darkness, wishing he had another body in bed with him, wondering how long he’s been blind to things breaking.

* * *

Patrik almost doesn’t go to morning skate the next day. Part of him wants to curl up in bed and stay there like a little kid. The rest of him, though, just wants to get back on the ice, because at least _that’s_ something he’s good at. Hockey’s always been everything, for him, and he’s not gonna let this keep him away from it.

It goes better than expected, because Nikolaj doesn’t even come to morning skate. He doesn’t have to, it’s completely optional, and Patrik’s grateful for the ability to just focus on hockey and not have to think about what he’s supposed to say. His heart thuds when he tells Paul he can’t play on Nikolaj’s line tonight, but Paul just nods and doesn’t ask any questions, and maybe pats his shoulder a bit more than he would otherwise.

Patrik doesn’t know whether Blake told the rest of the team anything, or if it’s just written all over his face, or if they’re figuring it out with Nikolaj skipping out. They’re just different with him. Not enough to be super noticeable, but enough that Patrik feels fragile whenever someone pats him on the back or skates up to say something hockey-related.

Nobody asks where Nik is, and nobody goofs off when Patrik’s nearby. It’s like being in a horror movie, where everything looks normal on the surface but there’s a tension underneath that’s just on this side of unsettling. Patrik hates horror movies.

After morning skate is over Patrik goes back home with Blake and Mark. He spends most of the drive barely paying attention to the road, thinking about Nikolaj sitting alone at home, and a weird nausea gnaws at the pit of his gut. Patrik’s pretty sure they’re in a fight, but. He’s still allowed to worry.

“When are you going to talk to him?” Blake asks gently, when they’re heading up the elevator.

Patrik shrugs. “Not tonight,” he says, because it’s the only answer he has. 

Blake doesn’t push, and Patrik stays quiet, trying to figure out how the fuck he’s supposed to make it through tonight’s game.

Later, when Patrik steps into the locker room at Bell MTS Place, he can’t help but notice Nikolaj immediately. He’s halfway through dressing, his back to the rest of the room. There’s a slump to his shoulders and his head’s hanging low and _fuck_ Patrik wants to be near him, wants to get a hand on his back and feel Nikolaj relax into it. He also doesn’t want to even be in the same room, because just looking at Nik is making his chest go tight and his hands feel shaky.

He manages to head for his stall and starts getting dressed himself, letting the din of the locker room wash over him and drown any wayward thoughts. He’s here to play hockey.

Then he gets on the ice, and it’s like skating through slush.

Warm-ups help, and when his first shift comes up Patrik goes out and plays hard. He’s a professional and a goddamn adult; he’s not about to let personal issues affect his play. But there’s a lingering feeling whenever he steps on the ice, that his skates aren’t gliding as smoothly, that his gear’s too heavy. This annoying, persistent _wrongness_ that he can’t shake off even when they go into the third with a 2-0 lead.

It’s weird, not bumping up against Nik during the intermissions, not sitting next to him on the bench and patting his knee. And when they win 3-0, it’s especially weird not finding Nikolaj on the ice and skating down to Connor arm in arm. Instead, Patrik skates off the ice with Kyle, and Nikolaj skates over to Connor alone.

“What’s up?” Kyle asks in a moment of privacy, nudging his shoulder against Patrik’s. 

Patrik shrugs. He’s been shrugging a lot. 

Kyle’s face goes soft, his hand patting Patrik’s back and then lingering, warm and solid. “Are you guys gonna be okay?” He sounds hesitant, his words clipped, like he’s not sure he should even be asking.

Another shrug. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Patrik says. 

Kyle nods. “Of course, man.” He doesn’t smile, and it’s weird, when Patrik can still feel the energy of the win running through both of them. They should be celebrating, shouting at each other and the room. “If you need to, I’m always here, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Patrik has a lot of morbid thoughts, later that night when he’s laying in bed and staring at the wall again. If he and Nikolaj break up, he wonders if anyone will pick sides, like a divorce where they have to divide up their belongings and figure out custody rights of their friends. How can exes even play on the same hockey team? There’s no precedent for that. They’d be the first in the NHL. They’re already first for a lot of things.

He thinks about it, about explaining to Kyle what happened, about telling Sami in thick Finnish. About the awkwardness from tonight, the slump in Nikolaj’s shoulders and the way he barely spoke to anyone at all. About losing the most important thing that’s ever happened to him, more important than his two Cup wins.

The thing is, Patrik doesn’t even know where it came from or when it started. It feels like ages ago, when he asked Nikolaj to buy a house with him. Nikolaj had seemed agreeable then—he’d climbed into Patrik’s lap when Patrik beckoned him, got all soft as they talked about it—but was he already regretting it then? And when Patrik’d said they should get married, and Nikolaj was excited and sweet and they’d _danced_ —was he already wishing he’d said no?

_I never learned to say no to you. Nobody says no to you._

Patrik’s blood runs cold, and he feels horror rising in his chest like nausea, because—he’s asked for a lot, from Nikolaj. And Nikolaj’s never said no, but. How much does that mean, now? How many times has Patrik pushed too far?

He kind of wants to throw up.

Instead, he blinks against the prickling behind his eyes and stares at the wall until his body succumbs to exhaustion and he falls asleep.

Nikolaj’s at practice the next day, and from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone, it’s clear he only showed up because he’s contractually obligated to be there. Patrik can’t stop staring at him. Nikolaj always looks small, relatively, but today—today he’s curled in on himself, drawn so tight it looks uncomfortable, and he looks five inches shorter and three years younger. It’s hard to look at and Patrik wants nothing more than to go over and wrap him up until all the tension bleeds out and he comes loose. But he can’t, because every time he thinks about touching Nikolaj he thinks about what Nikolaj said about saying no, and—

Hockey. He needs to think hockey.

Practice is a mess. Patrik’s off his game and Nikolaj’s barely talking to anyone and any semblance of team cohesiveness has gone out the fucking window. Patrik feels like shit, because this is more or less his fault, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. It doesn’t help that Nikolaj won’t even _look_ at him.

“You two need to talk to each other,” Blake urges gently back at the apartment. “You need to sort this out. If not for yourselves then for the sake of the team.”

“I know that,” Patrik says, a bit mulishly. 

“It’ll work out,” Mark promises. “It’s you two. I don’t think there’s anything that could keep you two apart forever.” He twists, smiling at Patrik over the back of the couch, a bit awkward but reassuring. “Just talk to him, eh? What’s the worst that could happen?”

_He could end it for real_ , Patrik thinks, but doesn’t say. Blake and Mark are being good to him. He’s not gonna throw it back in their faces by acting shitty.

Instead he just sighs, and stares at the cutting board under his hands. “I’ll think about it,” he mutters, not quite managing to keep the bitter edge out of his voice. Because he’s already thought about it. He’s thought about how suddenly furious Nikolaj was at him during the fight, how it all came out of nowhere. He’s thought about how Nikolaj didn’t even try to tell him to stop when he walked out. Patrik doesn’t know exactly what all that means, ultimately, but he almost doesn’t want to find out.

Mark and Blake have date plans that night, so Patrik’s left alone in their apartment with nothing to do and a weird feeling in the hollow of his chest. He wants Nikolaj. Just—to see him, touch him, wrap him up tight and just keep him there. They spend a lot of time together, and most of that time they spend touching in some way, and it’s like Patrik’s body is still looking for that feeling. What’s weird is that he used to like sitting at home alone, but at some point alone turned into alone-with-Nikolaj; being here in this empty apartment is making Patrik more lonely than he’s been in months. 

Time passes a bit weirdly, over the next couple days. Patrik blinks and he’s at morning skate, blinks again and they’re losing a game against the Islanders. Practice the day after is awful, because Nikolaj’s barely talking to anyone even during drills when he should be calling for a pass, and Patrik can feel Paul’s frustration from all the way across the ice when he barks Nik’s name and makes him come over. Patrik can’t look away as Nikolaj draws in tighter and tighter and tighter, arms wrapped around himself, nodding slowly at whatever Paul’s saying to him. Patrik wishes he knew what it was.

Then he doesn’t have to wonder, because Paul nods with a grim set to his mouth and pats Nik once on the shoulder, and—and Nikolaj’s skating off the ice. 

Patrik feels the pull towards him like a magnet in his ribcage and wants nothing more than to follow him. He _should_. Taking care of Nikolaj is his fucking responsibility. But he can’t. Because practice is still going, and because this is his fault, and because Nikolaj’s made it pretty clear with his avoidance that he wants nothing to do with Patrik right now.

So, Patrik doesn’t follow, and spends the entire rest of practice trying to skate on legs that feel like lead.

* * *

They play the Kings on Friday, the third game Patrik’s played without Nikolaj on his line, the fifth day since Nikolaj’s talked to him. It’s a disaster. None of Patrik’s shot attempts are going anywhere near the net, and he feels almost unsteady on his feet even when he’s crushing someone up against the boards. Nikolaj’s no better—Patrik can’t stop staring at him whenever he’s on the ice, so he doesn’t miss Nikolaj’s sloppy stick-handling, the way it turns the puck over in their zone and leads to a Kings goal.

Maybe this is why some people said team members dating each other shouldn’t be allowed. If this is what happens when a couple breaks—when a couple’s in a fight.

They lose the game. Go figure.

Patrik doesn’t talk to any media in the locker room afterwards, but he vaguely listens to Blake’s scrum. Someone asks what it was like playing on a line with Nikolaj again, whether it’s hard building that chemistry back when they haven’t played together in a couple months, how they’re looking to increase their production. He hears the real question hidden under the press-y one. _Why was Nikolaj on your line again? Why did Paul change the lines when they’ve been producing good numbers?_

_Is something going on with Patrik and Nikolaj?_

Discomfort crawls up under Patrik’s skin, and he stares at his hands. He’s never wanted out of the arena so fast.

“You need to talk to him,” Blake tells him on the way back to their cars. “Something’s gotta give, Patty.”

He doesn’t want to. He wants to _so badly_. It’s giving him a headache, how torn he is.

But Blake’s right. 

So once he’s in his car, Patrik doesn’t even bother going back to Blake and Mark’s place. He just heads straight for his and Nik’s apartment, knuckles white from his grip around the wheel, anxiety a solid weight in his chest.

Returning to his own fucking apartment shouldn’t feel like he’s stepping into a warzone. Patrik’s hands are shaking as he pulls out his key anyway, shaking when he gets on the elevator and presses the button for their floor, shaking when he steps up to their apartment door. He considers knocking just to be considerate, but—this is _their_ apartment, and knocking feels like he’s already given up on that, makes his throat go tight—

He unlocks the door and steps inside before he can hesitate.

The apartment’s mostly quiet, except for the sounds of the TV, too indistinct for Patrik to tell what’s playing. Well, Nikolaj’s home, at least. Patrik doesn’t let himself stop and think, just toes off his shoes and steps further in. 

When he gets into the living room Nikolaj’s on the couch, twisted to look over the back at whoever just came in, an expression of resigned annoyance already on his face. Then his gaze meets Patrik’s and his eyes go wide.

“Uh,” he says, his voice low and a bit ragged. “You—you’re here.”

Patrik nods. “Yeah.” How the fuck does he start this conversation?

Apparently he’s already failing at it, because that simple word makes Nikolaj wince. His eyes shutter off to the side, mouth pressed into a thin line as he stares at some indistinct point on the wall. “Oh.” His voice is thick, like maybe he’s about to start crying. Patrik’s terrified he will. “I guess . . . are you here to pick up your stuff?”

All Patrik’s thoughts crash and burn. “My stuff?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Nikolaj gestures vaguely at nothing. He’s still not meeting Patrik’s eyes. “I guess you can’t get it all in one go, but.”

Oh. His _stuff_. Like he’s moving out. Like they’re breaking up.

“Are you—“ All of a sudden Patrik’s angry. “Is that it? You’re really giving up already?” Four and a half years and this is what Nikolaj thinks they’re worth? Patrik steps closer, hands shaking, and Nikolaj still doesn’t look at him. “You’re not even going to try?”

Nikolaj turns half away, staring down. “What’s the point?” His voice has gone quiet. “I already ruined everything anyway.”

Patrik can’t get any footing here. It’s like him and Nikolaj are having two entirely different conversations with each other. “What do you mean you ruined everything?”

Nikolaj’s mouth twists up in a grimace. He looks almost like he’s in pain, and it hurts Patrik to see it. “We both know why you’re here, Patty. I appreciate you coming over to do it in person, but—“ His own laugh cuts him off, short and dry and humourless, grating on Patrik’s ears. “I almost wish you’d done it over text.” Finally, _finally_ , he looks up again, and his eyes are big and tired as he smiles sadly up at Patrik. “How pathetic is that?”

Patrik’s brow furrows. “Done it over—“

Fuck, he realizes what Nikolaj’s talking about now. He realizes why Nikolaj looks like he’s about to crumple.

“Niky,” he murmurs, before he can stop it from slipping out. Nikolaj winces and drops his gaze again. He’s turning back around, like not being able to see Patrik will make what he thinks is coming easier, and Patrik can’t look at the slump of his shoulders anymore. He strides into the room, goes around the couch and sits down near Nikolaj close enough to touch. “Niky,” he says again, his heart twinging when Nikolaj swallows and stares down at his hands. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

Nikolaj’s head snaps up. “What?” He stares at Patrik looking terrified and lost, like he has no idea what to do with what Patrik’s just said. Then his expression cracks. “Please don’t fuck with me, Patty. If you’re gonna do, it just do it.”

Somehow, hearing how afraid Nikolaj is in this moment hurts more than the last five days combined. “I’m not breaking up with you,” Patrik repeats, slow and steady, staring at Nikolaj with all the sincerity he can. “I’m never, ever going to break up with you. Even if I started hitting you or you started cheating on me and it all completely fell apart, I’m never letting you go.” Maybe he shouldn’t so readily promise to stick around even in the worst case scenario, but it’s not like he’s lying.

Nikolaj doesn’t look away. “Patty, that’s.” His voice breaks. He swallows, hands twisting in his lap, body otherwise completely frozen. “But I—“

“Don’t argue with me when I’m telling you I’m not breaking up with you.” He kinda says it to break the tension and pull some of the hurt and confusion out of Nikolaj’s eyes, but it doesn’t work. Nikolaj just presses his lips together in a tiny grimace and keeps looking miserable. So Patrik scoots a bit closer, fingers itching to reach out and touch. “If you think something like this can end it you’re stupid. We’ll figure it out, Niky. We don’t have to get a house yet, or get married—“

“No, I—“ Nikolaj’s eyes flick down. “I wanna get married. A lot.”

“You said—”

“I know that,” Nikolaj snaps. He’s staring at his hands. “I’m—I was—” With a long, heavy breath, he meets Patrik’s eyes again. “I’m terrified, Patty, but I wanted to get married years ago. That hasn’t changed.”

Patrik furrows his brow. This time, he reaches out and puts his hand on Nikolaj’s, stilling the twisting of his fingers. “You have to explain it to me,” he says, softly, stroking his thumb over Nikolaj’s knuckles.

Nikolaj tangles their fingers together, brushing the side of his thumb against the sensitive skin of Patrik’s inner wrist. “We’ve been the same for a really long time,” he starts, his voice low and thready. “And I was excited for things to change, y’know, getting a house and getting married like actual adults.” Pink flushes up his cheeks, and his eyes flick down to stare somewhere in the vicinity of Patrik’s mouth. “Starting a life together, I guess. I wanted all that.”

He pauses, and Patrik squeezes his fingers. “But?”

“We’ve been, y’know, _this_. For four years.” A wry, humourless smile quirks his mouth. “We’ve been living in this apartment for a long time. And it’s been really, really good.”

Patrik wants so badly to touch, to tip Nik over and bracket him with his body and just hold him, but this is a conversation they need to have on level footing. So he just grips Nikolaj’s hands more firmly and asks, “what’s the problem, then?”

“It’s changing all at once,” Nikolaj says quietly, not meeting Patrik’s eyes. “What if we change too?”

“Well . . .” Maybe that’s the wrong way to start, sounding so uncertain, because Nikolaj winces. But Patrik sweeps his thumb over Nikolaj’s palm and presses down. “Things are going to change, Niky. We’re going to change. That’s the whole point of getting married, right?” Now he can’t help himself; he gets a couple fingers at the side of Nikolaj’s jaw, pushing just enough to make Nikolaj face him again, to make their eyes meet. “Us changing doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

Nikolaj frowns. “But—“

“Do you want to get married? Actually?”

“Yes,” Nikolaj says immediately.

“Okay.” Patrik shrugs, and lets a small smile tug at his mouth. “Then we’re getting married.”

Nikolaj smiles back, a little weak and a little wobbly. “You always make things so simple,” he says, with a breathless laugh in the back of his throat. “How the fuck do you always do that?”

“Sometimes things _are_ simple, Niky.” He slides the hand on Nikolaj’s jaw further back, until it’s curled around the side of Nikolaj’s neck, fingers pressing into the top of his spine. “This is easy. Everything with you is easy.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause everything comes easy to you.”

Patrik grins. “Not everything. Just the easy things.”

Nikolaj narrows his eyes, but there’s a laugh bursting through the forced scowl on his face. Fuck, it feels good to see that again. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

“For me, yeah.”

“Oh, fuck you.” He pushes off Patrik’s hand and reaches over to shove him by the shoulder. It’s so normal that Patrik can’t help but laugh, going with the shove good-naturedly. He can push back a lot harder, though. Nikolaj goes way too easily when Patrik shoves him, like he wasn’t expecting it at all, sprawling sideways over the couch. “ _Asshole_ ,” he barks, but he’s laughing, and Patrik wants to follow him over and hold him down—

_I never learned how to say no to you._

Fuck.

He thinks, maybe, Nikolaj’s expecting him to climb over and get on top, because he gives Patrik a weird look as he’s sitting up. Or maybe Patrik’s fucked up feelings are written all over his face. Nikolaj knows him pretty damn well, after all. “Patty?” he asks, tentative and a little nervous.

“Remember when you said you couldn’t say no to me?” It’s out before Patrik can stop it. Might as well keep going, then, even though saying it makes his chest hurt. “Nik, have—I haven’t ever, um, pressured you into anything you didn’t—“

“What? No. _No_.” Nikolaj moves fast, scooting closer, twisting so he’s got one knee under him, hands coming up to cradle Patrik’s face. His eyes are big and blue, his jaw set. “What I said, that was just—I was making excuses. Because I didn’t wanna admit I was scared.” He leans even closer, close enough that Patrik’s almost cross-eyed looking at him. “Trust me, you haven’t. You wouldn’t.”

“Nik—“

“Shut up, I swear. Okay?” He grins; a little bit sheepish, a little bit smug. “I like everything you do to me. If you ever tried pressuring me into something I really didn’t wanna do, I’d punch you in the face, and then go find Buff at whatever lake he’s on and get him to punch you second.”

The weight lifts off Patrik’s chest. He breathes in deep, relief settling over him. “That seems harsh,” he says after a second, not quite smirking. “The Buff part.”

A grin lights up Nik’s eyes. “Don’t be a shithead, then.” 

They smile at each other like idiots and Patrik feels a little like his heart’s about to burst him. Nikolaj kisses him then, soft and sweet, fingers threading into his hair, and—Patrik’s missed this. Just the closeness.

A moment passes and Nikolaj pulls back. His forehead presses to Patrik’s, hands sliding down to curl around the back of Patrik’s neck. “Hey,” he murmurs, low and private, “let’s buy the house.”

Patrik loses his breath, for just a second. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Patrik can hear the smile in Nikolaj’s voice. “We’re getting older, we can’t live in this apartment forever. Especially not if we’re getting married.” His fingers twitch over Patrik’s neck and he laughs, almost shy. “And, y’know, we might need the extra room, someday. Who knows.”

Oh. That’s . . .

“Fucking hell, _kultaseni_.”

Nikolaj snickers, bright and soft and happy. “ _Jeg elsker dig._ ”

* * *

“I really don’t get why we need rings,” Nikolaj says, his hands gripped tight around the edge of the counter as he stares at a whole tray of expensive-looking wedding rings. It’s kinda funny, how terrified he’s been of the concept of ring shopping since Patrik brought it up a couple weeks ago. Patrik had asked, if it was real apprehension, but no. Apparently Nik’s just being a baby about buying wedding rings. “We’ve got rings. We don’t need new ones.”

Patrik rolls his eyes. “The tattoos are engagement rings,” he says, looking over the rings while their salesperson’s gone to help her coworker. It’s hard knowing exactly where to start without her. “From the shittiest proposal ever. You didn’t even get me a diamond.”

Nikolaj snorts. “Sorry, baby, I’ll get you a big rock this time.”

“You’d better.” He leans in closer, bumping their elbows together. “And I’ll find something pretty for you.”

The look Nikolaj gives him is withering. It’s so suddenly pissy that it’s kind of hilarious, and Patrik bites back a smirk. “Okay, let’s get this thing straight. We’re getting matching rings. I mean completely matching, not just rings that go together.” He bumps against Patrik hard enough to almost jostle him. “I’m not getting some ring covered in diamonds just so you can indulge your housewife fantasy or whatever the fuck.”

Patrik frowns. “I don’t have a housewife fantasy.”

“Oh, totally convincing.”

“I _don’t_.”

Nikolaj looks up at him again, brows raised. “Patty, if you could, you’d keep me locked up at home in nothing but one of your shirts, cooking you food and folding your laundry and shit.”

Well, it’s not like the image is _unappealing_. Still. “I wouldn’t all the time,” he says deadpan, forcing down a grin when Nikolaj rolls his eyes. “I still like playing hockey with you. So maybe just during summer break.”

“That is never going to happen.”

Patrik leans in, not close enough that it’d be weird in public but enough to make his point. “I bet I could convince you.” He doesn’t, really, because there’s a lot Nikolaj will put up with from him—but he’s pretty sure being an actual housewife is where Nik’d draw the line. It’s just fun to rile him up, especially with the stupid offended look on his face. He’s cute, and Patrik’s about to tell him as much.

“Ahem?” The weird, teasing tension between them snaps at the sound of the voice. It’s their saleswoman, standing behind the counter again. She looks kind of like she’s trying to hide a smile, and Patrik feels his face go a little hot wondering how much of that conversation she heard. Apparently Nikolaj’s thinking the same thing judging by how red the tips of his ears are. “Sorry about the delay, gentlemen. How can I help you?”

They share a look. “Um . . .” Nikolaj glances at the saleswoman again. “We’re looking for wedding rings.” It’s almost weird, saying it to someone who isn’t their families or the team. 

They’re in Winnipeg, so there’s a chance the saleswoman knows who they are, but she didn’t show any recognition when they came in and doesn’t show a reaction to them talking about wedding rings either. She just smiles, pulling out a couple trays from below the counter, rows of rings all settled in cushions. “This is our men’s selection,” she says pleasantly, hands folding in front of her. “Would either of you like to look at anything more feminine—?”

“No,” Nikolaj blurts out, his ears burning even darker. “No, we’re good with this.” 

Patrik doesn’t quite manage to stifle his laugh. Nikolaj kicks him in the calf hard enough it actually hurts.

The saleswoman just keeps smiling pleasantly. “Well, then this is the selection we have available. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” She sweeps her hands over the rows of rings. “Colour, style, gemstones?”

“Simple,” Nikolaj says. “Uh, probably no gems?”

Patrik nods. As much as it’s fun complaining about not getting a diamond, he doesn’t really want one. He wouldn’t hate seeing something sparkly and pretty on Nikolaj, though.

Maybe he does have a bit of a housewife fantasy.

“And I think gold,” Patrik adds, after a second of looking at all the rings. Gold just seems more like a marriage colour to him.

The woman nods, and starts pointing out a bunch of different rings that fit their criteria. They’re all pretty similar with slight differences—width, texture simple designs. Patrik kinda gets why Nikolaj was trying so hard to avoid this. It’s overwhelming. 

When he glances over Nikolaj’s staring at all the options with an intensity to his face he doesn’t have much outside of hockey, shoulders all tense, so Patrik spreads a hand wide over his lower back just to try and give a bit of wordless support. The last thing he wants is for Nikolaj to start feeling strung out and terrified again.

“Huh,” Nikolaj says, as the saleswoman’s showing them another ring. “I kinda like that one.” He nudges his elbow into Patrik’s ribs. “Patty?”

Patrik leans in closer, taking a look at the ring. It’s pretty simple, half smooth and shiny and half brushed gold, with a thin groove in the middle separating each half. Simple, but not too plain. Patrik imagines wearing a ring like that, Nikolaj with a matching one on his hand, and it takes genuine effort not to lean over even more and kiss Nikolaj’s neck.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, dragging his hand up and down Nikolaj’s spine. “That one.”

The saleswoman sizes them and starts filling out the order, and then she smiles at both of them and asks, “would you like anything engraved?”

Shit, they were probably supposed to decide that beforehand.

Patrik thinks about it, because it’d be nice getting some kind of personalization. Something that’s just for them. He just doesn’t know what.

“Twenty-nine on mine,” Nikolaj says decisively. “And twenty-seven on his. In, uh, _Romertal_ —Roman numbers?”

Patrik stares at him. Nikolaj’s not looking back. 

“Niky,” he murmurs, and doesn’t know what to say next. His lungs are tight, like he just got slammed against the boards and still hasn’t caught his breath. Because that’s—that’s like the names. Part of their identities on each other permanently. Except with the rings it would be private, way different from having Ehlers-Laine printed across their backs for the entire world to see, and the idea makes something warm and soft unfold in Patrik’s chest.

The saleswoman finishes putting in the order and takes the payment, and then they head out of the shop with the promise of a call when their rings are in. 

“Don’t be weird,” Nikolaj tells him once they’re outside, poking at Patrik’s chest with a laugh. “You look so stupid right now.”

Patrik takes a second to compose himself, because he probably _does_ look stupid. Then he narrows his eyes at Nikolaj, batting his hand away. “You can’t just pull that on me with no warning,” he says, trying not to sound like a moody teenager. “That was—that’s a _lot_ , Nik.”

Nikolaj shrugs, his ears going red again. “It was the first thing I thought of,” he says, glancing up at Patrik through his lashes with a smug grin. “And I knew you wouldn’t have a problem with it, so I didn’t bother asking you.” 

Patrik has pretty much the opposite of a problem with it. He takes Nikolaj’s face in both hands, tips his head up, murmurs, “you’re too much,” and interrupts whatever Nikolaj’s response was going to be with a kiss. Probably too heated a kiss for somewhere so public. When Nikolaj makes a soft noise against his mouth and wraps his arms around Patrik’s waist to press them closer, Patrik decides he really can’t be bothered caring.

* * *

The Jets go on a tear at the end of the regular season and clinch a playoff spot third in the league. Everything’s just _working_ ; Connor’s on his game and the lines are all firing exactly the way they’re supposed to and the blue line’s strong and finally free of injuries. They sweep the first round of the playoffs, battle through a gruelling seven game series against the Stars that brings back twinges of Patrik’s back issues—

And then they’re down 4-2 with three minutes left in game six against the Sharks, the Sharks are up 3-2 in the series, and Mark’s just disappeared down the tunnel with a limp he can barely walk on.

Two minutes left and Brandon grinds out a goal on a sloppy defensive play by the Sharks. The whole bench screams and jumps and Patrik can feel his body buzzing, because they can _do this_. He hops over the boards when Paul tells him to, fires off a shot while Connor’s heading to the bench, crushes a Shark up against the boards to fight for the puck. Adrenaline’s blocking out the burn in his legs and the ache in his back because they’re so fucking close—

The horn goes. The game’s over.

Patrik’s always hated the quiet, afterwards. The way his ears are ringing so everything feels muffled. The way they all barely speak as they change out of their hockey gear for the last time this season. It makes the vague, dull ache in his chest even worse.

He and Nikolaj go back to their hotel room. They spend the whole ride up the elevator in silence, a solid foot of space between them. It makes Patrik’s chest tight, and he wants to crush Nikolaj against him and blur their edges together, but he also can’t stand the thought of being touched right now. Nothing feels right. Like his whole life’s been displaced by inches, just enough to be noticeable.

This part never gets any easier.

When they get back into their room Patrik heads straight for the bathroom. “Gonna grab a shower,” he says, not waiting for a response. He just showered at the arena, but that’s a hockey shower. Right now he wants to get rid of any trace of hockey whatsoever.

He spends longer than he should in the shower just letting the hot water beat down on him. It’s numbing. That helps.

When Patrik comes out still damp and mostly naked, Nikolaj’s sitting on the end of their bed flipping through TV channels. His mouth’s set in a scowl, his knee bouncing, and with how fast he’s clicking through Patrik’s pretty sure he’s not even paying attention to what’s going on onscreen. It’s making Patrik’s back even more sore, how obvious the tension in Nikolaj’s entire body is.

Once Patrik’s got a pair of sweats on he collapses on the bed next to Nikolaj, falling back onto the mattress and spreading his arms wide. “Anything on?”

Nikolaj makes an annoyed noise. “No. It all sucks.” He huffs, settling on some movie that Patrik’s not even looking at but can already tell is poorly lit. “How’s your back?”

Patrik pulls a face. “Sore.” He pokes Nikolaj in the base of his spine. “How’s your hamstring?”

“Same as it was two days ago.”

Patrik nods, even though Nikolaj’s not looking. The part of him that’s Nikolaj’s fiancé hates that he played hockey on a pulled hamstring. The part that’s a hockey player knows exactly why he did it.

“Fuck,” Nikolaj says suddenly. “ _Fuck_.”

_Yeah_ , Patrik thinks, but doesn’t say.

“It’s just—we should have fucking won,” Nikolaj spits, his voice ragged and laced with something vicious. “This year, especially. It would’ve been the perfect way for this year to go. We could’ve won and then gotten _married_ —” He cuts himself off with a frustrated noise. “It would’ve been perfect. Fuck.”

_There’s always next year_ , Patrik almost says. _We could win the Cup as husbands_. He keeps his mouth shut, though, because he’s not in the mood for fucking platitudes. 

“I really thought we’d get it again,” Nikolaj says. “I wanted—” He curses, in English and then in Danish.

“Niky.” Patrik paws at Nikolaj’s back, fingers twisting in his shirt and tugging. “Come down here.”

Nikolaj almost growls. “Cuddling isn’t gonna make this better.”

“It’s not gonna make it _worse_.” Now that Patrik’s washed off the weird, heavy feeling of the loss, the oppressiveness of the end of their season, he wants to hold Nikolaj until the frantic energy’s bled out of both of them and they’re just left boneless. He tugs harder. “Come down here and cuddle me.”

With a loud, frustrated sigh, Nikolaj collapses backwards. They both shift until their sides are pressed together, Patrik’s arm folded under Nik’s head like a cushion. It’s not quite what Patrik wants, but it’ll do for now.

“This sucks,” Nikolaj says. “Fuck. I hate this.”

Patrik knows exactly how he feels. 

“I thought it was enough.” Nikolaj’s voice is getting dangerously close to breaking, the anger in his tone growing into something heavy and fragile. “I thought we could do it, we were _so close_.” He turns his face away from Patrik. “Maybe if—if I’d got a goal on that breakaway—“

“Shut up.” It takes a bit of manoeuvring, but Patrik gets his arm out from under Nikolaj and drags them both far enough up the bed that their legs aren’t hanging off the end anymore. Nikolaj’s staring at him, his expression caught somewhere in the vicinity of confused, but Patrik doesn’t pay any attention to him as he starts undoing the buttons of Nik’s shirt. He’s got a goal now: get Nikolaj out of his own head. Only really one good way to do it.

“What’re you doing?” 

Nikolaj tries pushing up on his elbows, so Patrik spreads his palm flat on his chest and gently, insistently, pushes him back down. “Let me,” he says, dropping the rest of the sentence as he goes back to the buttons. “Why’re you still wearing your suit?” He took the jacket off, at least, but the fact that he didn’t immediately put on sweats or something is stupid. 

Once Patrik’s got all the buttons he swings a leg over Nikolaj’s waist, pushing the shirt up under Nik’s back, tugging at it when Nik obediently raises his arms. Then, just because he can, he leans down and presses a slow, filthy kiss to Nikolaj’s mouth, nibbling at his lower lip and drawing out a soft, needy little noise. 

He pulls back to see Nikolaj’s face flushed and his arms still up above his head, the sleeves tangled around his wrists. Oh, right. Buttons.

It’s a good look, though. Nikolaj, with burning cheeks and a bare chest and his wrists crossed above his head, staring up while Patrik looms over him. It makes Patrik feel a little drunk with power, fills the uncomfortable hollowness in the pit of his gut. “Keep these here,” he murmurs, tapping Nikolaj’s bicep, right over his tattoo. From the way Nikolaj swallows and his breath hitches, he understands what Patrik means by it.

“Don’t have much choice,” Nikolaj quips, his voice just a bit breathless.

“How about you try something,” Patrik says. Slowly, he trails his fingers down the sensitive skin of Nikolaj’s inner arm, over his collarbones, around the muscles of his ribs. His touch is light, fingertips barely brushing Nik’s skin, and a violent shiver runs down the entire length of Nikolaj’s body like an electric current. “How about you stay quiet for once.” Patrik digs his fingers into the grooves between Nikolaj’s ribs, hard enough a gasp catches and breaks in Nik’s throat.

Nikolaj shifts his arms, tugging a bit at the shirtsleeves. “You like when I’m loud,” he says, a bit smug. “I thought you hated when I try to be quiet.”

Patrik rolls his eyes and runs his hands up and down Nikolaj’s sides. “I meant not talking.”

“Be more clear next time, then.”

Nikolaj winces and squirms when Patrik digs his fingers too hard into his waist, but he deserved it. “Just shut up,” Patrik tells him, scooting back. Nikolaj makes space for him between his legs so easily, without Patrik even needing to tell him. “Let me do this.” He undoes Nikolaj’s belt and the button on his pants, hooks his fingers under Nik’s pants and briefs, glances up to stare until Nikolaj tips his head back and glares mulishly at the ceiling. “Let me take care of you.”

Now Nikolaj’s cooperative, lifting his hips and bending his legs so Patrik can get his pants off, both of them mindful of his pulled muscle. He’s probably realizing it’s counterproductive being a shit when Patrik’s promising to touch his dick.

Doesn’t mean Patrik’s not gonna take his time. Once he’s balled up Nikolaj’s pants and underwear and tossed them across the room, he takes a moment just to appreciate how Nik looks right now. Flushed all the way down to his chest, arms stretched up above his head, chin set stubbornly. He’s still tense all over, though, and that’s what Patrik wants to fix. 

So he tucks a wet strand of hair behind his ear, leans down, and digs his teeth into the sharp jut of Nikolaj’s hip bone. Nikolaj yelps, hips twitching. “Shh,” Patrik tells him, murmuring it into his skin as he mouths along the crease of Nik’s hip and his thigh. “Relax.”

“Maybe don’t bite someone if you want them to relax,” Nikolaj drawls shakily.

Okay, so maybe Nikolaj’s _not_ being cooperative. “I told you to stop talking,” Patrik mutters, pressing his fingertips into the meat of Nikolaj’s thighs. “Listen to me for once.”

Nikolaj snorts. “I’ll listen to you when you’re saying something worthwhile.” He shifts his hips, rolling up into the press of Patrik’s teeth. “Can you _do_ something? I’m not in the mood for this—this teasing bullshit—”

Instead of giving Nikolaj what he wants, Patrik lifts his head to glare at him. “Stop talking.” Nikolaj meets his eyes with a glare of his own, wrists twisting up above his head, mouth flattened in a scowl. His eyes are too bright, his jaw too tight—and that’s why Patrik wants to take him apart, so he’s nothing but need and feeling. Patrik splays his palm flat on Nikolaj’s stomach and presses down enough to make him wheeze. “Shut up.”

Nikolaj’s mouth twists up. “ _You_ shut up.”

A very, _very_ small part of Patrik is annoyed enough to want to get up and leave Nikolaj to get himself off while he goes to jerk off in the shower. Lucky for Nik this has never been just about sex. Nikolaj’s still riding the desperation of the loss and he needs to come down from it, and Patrik’s the one who can help with that.

So he just rolls his eyes. “I can keep my mouth shut, but then I can’t suck your dick.”

“Fuck you,” Nikolaj snaps, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then _stop talking_.”

Nikolaj lifts his eyebrows. Now he’s being _challenging_. “Okay, then get back down and—”

Patrik reaches up between them, slamming the heel of his hand against Nikolaj’s chin to finally shut his damn mouth. His teeth clack together, loud over the quiet sounds of whatever movie’s playing, and his eyes go wide in the moment it takes him to realize what’s happening. “Fucking hell, Niky,” Patrik says lowly, fingers curled over Nik’s mouth, “can you not be annoying for _once_?” For a long second, Nikolaj just stares at him, all wide-eyed and red-faced. Then his eyes flutter shut and he kisses Patrik’s fingers, soft and sweet, and Patrik’s annoyance melts away as warmth floods up his chest. 

He digs the fingers of his other hand into Nikolaj’s hip and doesn’t give any warning before dipping back down to lick a stripe up the underside of Nikolaj’s cock. Nikolaj moans, and Patrik takes the opportunity to slip two fingers into his mouth and press down against his tongue. 

“That’s it,” Patrik murmurs, mouthing at Nikolaj’s dick. “Good, Niky.”

Nikolaj makes a tiny noise around Patrik’s fingers, teeth digging into his knuckles, a faint shudder knocking loose some of his tension. Yeah, that’s what Patrik’s looking for.

He takes his time with it. Kissing and licking at Nikolaj’s dick, drifting away to suck bruises around his hips and bite at the skin of his belly, scraping his fingers over Nikolaj’s tongue whenever a noise slips out. Patrik gets Nik worked up until he’s a trembling, shaky mess, whining softly in the back of his throat and clawing at the shirt still twisted around his wrists. He’s practically half out of his mind with need, and Patrik hasn’t even properly gotten his mouth around his dick.

When Patrik finally swallows down half of Nikolaj’s dick, Nik makes this soft, shattered sound that’s almost a _sob_ , and bites down so hard on Patrik’s fingers that it hurts. So Patrik hollows his cheeks, massaging circles into Nikolaj’s hip with his free hand. He wants to keep this gentle. He wants the atmosphere to stay the way it is, slow and heavy and breathless.

Patrik pulls off just enough to look up at Nikolaj, to see his eyes screwed shut and his chest heaving. “God, Nik,” he murmurs, lips moving against the head of Nikolaj’s cock. “You’re so good. You’re perfect.” He sinks down around Nikolaj’s dick again, tonguing at the tip, swallowing him down further until his nose is practically pressed to Nik’s pelvis.

Nikolaj shudders, whining around Patrik’s fingers, and comes. Patrik sucks him through it, swallowing down the bitter taste, still massaging his hip and the crease of his thigh. He doesn’t let up until Nikolaj starts whimpering from oversensitivity.

Then he pulls off slowly, eyes flicking up to see the blissed-out expression on Nikolaj’s face as he stares up at the ceiling. He looks a bit drunk, his mouth slack around Patrik’s fingers and his arms still draped up above his head. “Fuck,” Patrik rumbles, his own arousal finally catching up to him. “You look so pretty like this, Niky. All mine.”

Patrik can’t be selfless anymore. He slips his fingers free from Nik’s mouth and hauls himself up, bracketing his forearm near Nikolaj’s head for support as he hovers over him. 

Nikolaj’s hazy blue eyes meet his. “Kiss me?”

How’s Patrik supposed to say no to that?

He leans down, licking into Nikolaj’s mouth while he shoves his sweats down with his free hand. It doesn’t take much—a few strokes, just enough pressure, the softness of Nik’s mouth moving under his—and then Patrik’s coming all over Nikolaj’s stomach, his orgasm rushing through him like a wave.

“Love you,” he says into Nikolaj’s mouth.

“Love you too,” Nik says back, his voice sounding dangerously close to breaking. 

Patrik’s heart cracks in his chest. He kisses a messy, haphazard trail across Nikolaj’s jaw, nuzzling against his cheekbone and breathing him in. The disappointment of the loss is almost gone. It’ll come back, but for now, all he feels is contentment and peace and so much love it aches. At least, no matter how many times they win the Cup or get knocked out of playoffs, he’ll always have this; Nikolaj, soft and pliant and sweet underneath him.

He’s gonna need to get something to clean up with, but for now, Patrik glances down at the mess of come he left on Nikolaj’s toned stomach and feels a heady rush of satisfaction. He smears it in with his thumb, like he can stain Nik’s skin with it permanently, like it’ll mark Nik up as his territory in some basic, primal way.

A startled laugh knocks loose from Nikolaj’s chest. “Seriously?” His laugh is more of a wheeze. “You’re so fucking weird.” Except his voice is thready and his accent’s a little thicker, and Patrik can feel the catch in his breath.

“You’re into it,” he points out.

“Doesn’t make you any less weird.” He stretches, arching his back and tipping his head up with a satisfied groan. “Just means that you ruined me. I’m never gonna be normal again because of you.”

Patrik bites at his cheekbone. “Good thing you’re not gonna need to be normal. Since you’re marrying me.”

Nikolaj’s arms are still trapped in the shirt but he lifts them up and wraps them around Patrik’s neck. “Yeah.” He draws Patrik in tighter and nuzzles against him, somehow managing to get his fingers free from the crumpled fabric and wind them into Patrik’s damp hair. “Hey,” he says, very quietly, his voice low and magnetic, “thank you. Really.”

The tension’s gone from Nikolaj’s body and now he’s loose and boneless, the way he always is after an orgasm. Patrik presses a kiss to his cheek with the side of his mouth. “Always,” he says softly, something unspooling in his chest just hearing the steadying of Nikolaj’s breathing.

“Can you get this dumb shirt off though?”

Oh, yeah. Oops.

Patrik snickers, pressing one last kiss to Nikolaj’s cheek before pushing himself up and onto his knees. “I dunno,” he says, grinning down at the way Nikolaj’s got his arms folded up against his chest, “I think you look kind of cute like this.” He deals with the shirt anyway, fiddling with the buttons until he can tug it off and toss it somewhere in the vague vicinity of Nik’s bag.

Nikolaj breathes in deep, eyes drifting shut, body melting even further into the mattress. “Go get a towel,” he says, sounding loose and exhausted. “I’m not falling asleep with your come on me.”

Patrik doesn’t really wanna cuddle Nik when he’s got come all over him, either, so he slips off the bed and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back out Nikolaj looks like he’s halfway to falling asleep already, head lolling to one side, still sprawled awkwardly in the centre of the bed. He arches into it when Patrik wipes the towel over his stomach, a low hum vibrating in his chest that almost sounds like a purr. It’s a little bit irresistible, so Patrik just chucks the dirty towel onto the bathroom floor when he’s done and immediately climbs onto the bed, crawling up Nikolaj’s body to kiss him until they’re both breathless. Then he collapses, face tucked into the arch of Nikolaj’s neck.

“We’ll get it next year,” Nikolaj murmurs.

Patrik hums. “We’ll be married next year.”

Nikolaj makes this small, choked noise. “Yeah.” He wraps his arms tighter around Patrik’s shoulders. “I almost can’t believe it. It’s—it’s really only two months away.” Something almost like a laugh rumbles through his chest. “I just—fuck. I want to marry you so fucking badly.”

He sounds like he’s maybe starting to cry. Patrik presses a kiss to his throat and says, as softly as he can, “me too.”

* * *

Everything is _weird_ when they get back home to Winnipeg, in a good way. Patrik feels like they’re in some kind of in-between state, like the few moments between sleeping and waking up where nothing feels real and you don’t know what’s a dream and what isn’t. Maybe it’s because they’re actually staying in Winnipeg until a few days before the wedding, instead of splitting most of the summer between Denmark and Finland like they usually do. There’s a lot of shit to they have to get done so they can move into the house the second they’re back from the honeymoon. Plus there’s the suits to pick up, and the _rings_ , and a bunch of stuff to get ready for both the wedding and the honeymoon.

It’s kind of nice, though, staying in Winnipeg for the summer. Finland is Patrik’s home, and Denmark is Nikolaj’s, but Winnipeg is something that belongs to both of them, together. It’s a place they made for themselves.

Plus, they keep having _we’re getting married in under two months_ sex on every surface of the apartment like they’re in their early twenties again, and that’s pretty great.

There’s a little more than a month left before the wedding when Patrik gets a text from Kyle, basically telling them that the bachelor party’s happening on the 30th, and that they get no say in the matter because it’s the only day that most of the guys could come back up to Winnipeg. 

_no strippers_ , Patrik texts him. _fly doesnt want strippers_. Not like Patrik really wants strippers either, but he can appreciate the humour of being trashy enough to have strippers at their bachelor party. Especially since they got engaged in Vegas.

_excuse u i have class lmao_ , is Kyle’s response, which is absolutely not true at all.

_so what are we doing_ , Patrik asks. Nikolaj makes a face at him from across the couch, because they’re supposed to be watching a movie, but Nik picked some dumb slasher movie so Patrik doesn’t really care about paying attention anyway. He just pokes his toes into Nik’s thigh and makes a face right back.

“Put your phone down,” Nikolaj says. “We’re watching a movie.”

“ _You’re_ watching a movie,” Patrik corrects, frowning at his phone when Kyle’s response just says that it’s a surprise. “I’m texting KC.”

“You’re ignoring me for _KC_?”

“I’m not ignoring you, just your movie.” He sends a text demanding details, already knowing it won’t get him anywhere. Kyle’s annoying like that. He’s got a fetish for never giving Patrik anything he wants. “He said we’re doing our bachelor party on the 30th. So it’s, y’know, an important wedding conversation.”

“Kyle’s planning it?” Nikolaj groans, head tipping back against the back of the couch. “We’re fucked.”

“Yeah, probably.” He tosses his phone onto the coffee table. “Wanna make out?”

“You just don’t wanna watch the movie,” Nikolaj grumbles, but he climbs on top of Patrik and kisses him anyway.

On June 30th, the buzzer for their apartment goes off at 10 PM, and a few minutes later a whole cluster of huge hockey players are piling through the door. It’s not everyone, because they’ve all got their own lives to worry about, but it’s a lot of the guys who’ve been there a long time. Kyle tells them to get changed, then ten minutes later they’re all splitting up into two Ubers and heading off to a club. A regular club, one without any strippers. Maybe Kyle has a bit of class after all.

Someone orders a round of shots, and Adam lifts his in a toast and calls out, “to these idiots finally tying the knot!” and everyone slams back their drinks. Patrik doesn’t drink, just watches the way Nikolaj’s throat bobs as he swallows, already wanting to get his mouth on Nikolaj’s skin and mark it up with his teeth.

There’s more shots, and Josh crooning along to a remix some fluffy pop song, and Kyle fighting with Nik over the last mozzarella stick until Laurent reaches in with his ridiculously long arms and snatches it up. Nikolaj drags Patrik off to the dance floor at some point, grinding against him and mouthing at the mole just below his ear.

Then Kyle comes over and shouts, “we’re leaving, get decent!” over the music, interrupting Patrik while he’s deciding whether it’s too early in the night to grab Nikolaj’s ass.

So, a classic bar crawl. Patrik kisses Nikolaj one last time just to hear the offended noise Kyle makes, before dragging himself away and following the rest of the guys out into the street. It’s a gorgeous night, because despite popular belief Winnipeg is actually really warm in summer, and even though they’re both sweaty from dancing and the heat Patrik wraps his arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders and tugs him in close.

They get to the next club and Nikolaj downs two more shots, kisses Patrik with a tongue that tastes like vodka, and disappears for a while with Jack and Kyle. When he comes back he’s giggling and off-balance, shoving some pinkish cocktail at Patrik with a grin. “It’s _good_ ,” he shouts over the music, hands fluttering around near Patrik’s waist. “Drink it!”

Patrik rolls his eyes. “I don’t drink, Fly.”

“ _Boring_ ,” Nik drags out, leaning up into Patrik’s space, his eyes big and bright. “You’ll like it, it’s sweet.”

Patrik’s mouth tilts in a grin. “I do like sweet things.” Unfortunately Nikolaj seems too drunk to understand what Patrik means, because he just nods seriously and gestures at the drink with his chin.

It doesn’t actually taste too bad. Barely even like alcohol. And when Nikolaj surges up and kisses him he tastes just like it, sweet and fruity, and Patrik thinks maybe he can get behind having a drink tonight.

He only drinks about half of it before Nikolaj gets impatient and downs the rest. His eyes are half-lidded, his gaze on Patrik as his tongue darts out to lick a drop from the corner of his mouth. “Too slow,” he says, circling his thumb around the rim of the glass before bringing it to his mouth and licking _that_ , too. His thumbnail drags over his lower lip, and all Patrik can think about is getting him on his knees right in the middle of the club. 

He doesn’t, because _bad idea_ , but from the way Nikolaj’s eyes flash and his fingers twitch it’s probably written all over his face.

“You’re awful,” Patrik tells him, grabbing Nikolaj by the chin, pressing his thumb to Nikolaj’s smug grin. Nikolaj licks him, then takes the tip of Patrik’s thumb between his teeth, and fuck if that doesn’t go straight to Patrik’s dick. “What do I do with you?”

Without warning Nikolaj pulls back, still grinning. “Nothing right now,” he purrs, one hand fiddling with the bottom hem of Patrik’s shirt. “KC’s heading over.”

Sure enough. “Next one!” Kyle shouts, way louder than he needs to. He’s as drunk as Nik is. “Stop flirting and get moving!”

Patrik frowns. “It’s our bachelor party, we’re allowed to flirt.”

Laughing, Nikolaj pats him on the waist and stumbles into him. “Don’t pout, Patty.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s cute!”

They head outside again and this time Nikolaj’s a lot more giggly and a lot more sweaty, pressing into Patrik’s side while they’re walking, laughing at the stupid drunken argument Ben and Josh are having. It’s nice, being out of the overly loud club, and Patrik soaks in the moment and tugs Nikolaj even closer. 

When they get to the next place, Patrik holds Nikolaj back with a hand around his wrist. “Drink some water.”

Nikolaj pouts. “Why?”

Now Patrik leans down, until his mouth is almost at Nikolaj’s ear, and presses his fingers hard against Nikolaj’s pulse. “Because I need you more sober in a little bit.”

Nikolaj shivers, his pulse jumping up under Patrik’s fingers. Patrik straightens back up to see him with wide eyes and a smile starting to spread across his face. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, so quietly it’s hard to hear over the music. “Okay, yeah—water. Yes.”

Patrik runs a hand through Nik’s hair and tugs maybe a little more than necessary. “Cute,” he says, and leads Nikolaj over to the bar with a hand curled around the back of his neck to get them both a glass of water. They sit at the bar together, Nikolaj tucked under Patrik’s arm, drinking water until Nik stops giggling so much and starts looking a little more lucid.

He’s expecting it, when Nikolaj puts a hand high up on his thigh and grins up at him through his lashes. “So, why’d you want me sober?”

Patrik’s mouth quirks into a smirk. “You’ll see when you’re _more_ sober.”

Nikolaj pouts, fingers digging into the inside of Patrik’s thigh. “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.” Nikolaj’s pout is cute, though, so Patrik can’t help leaning down to kiss him. He still kind of tastes like the fruity cocktail from the last place, and he sighs into the kiss when Patrik tugs his lower lip between his teeth. It’s just so _easy_ , kissing Nikolaj, falling into it and forgetting everything happening around them.

Something bumps against his shoulder. “KC says we’re leaving,” Adam says. Patrik pulls away with a groan, appreciating the sight of Nik with his lips still parted and his lashes fanned over his cheekbones before turning to see Adam leaning up against the bar and failing to pull a straw into his mouth with his tongue. “You’ll have to tongue-fuck your boy at the next place.”

Patrik rolls his eyes. “Where’s _your_ boy?”

Adam finally succeeds in getting the straw of his drink in his mouth. He doesn’t even drink anything, because his glass is fucking empty. “B’s somewhere,” he says, waving his hand vaguely. “We’re not pathetically codependent like you losers.”

Nikolaj barks out a laugh, leaning past Patrik into the conversation. “That’s such bullshit.” He points at Adam, slumping most of his weight against Patrik. “You follow Rusty around like a puppy half the time. You have these big dumb eyes whenever you’re looking at him, it’s _sad_. I get sad for you and how pathetic you are.”

“You sure you wanna talk about pathetic, Fly? You really wanna go there?”

“You’re both pathetic,” Patrik says, shoving Nik off. It’s a testament to how much he’s sobered up that he doesn’t go crashing off the barstool. “C’mon, aren’t we leaving?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just slides off the barstool and tugs Nikolaj after him with a hand spread wide between his shoulder blades.

“I’m not pathetic,” Nikolaj says, about ten seconds too late. “Lows is way worse than me.”

Adam’s face lights up in a grin. “Hey, I’ve never bought—”

“You shut the fuck up,” Nikolaj snaps. “I never should’ve said anything.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea. Just saying.”

Patrik looks between them—Adam, bright-eyed and smug, and Nikolaj with his shoulders all curled in and a miserable expression twisting his mouth. Well, now he’s extra curious. “What are you guys talking about?”

Adam’s grin stretches even wider. “Y’know. Stuff.” He chews on his straw, leaving the glass on a table somewhere as they head for the exit. “C’mon, we should get moving, KC’s gonna get pissed if we make him wait.” He strides off, easily making space for himself.

Patrik glances at Nikolaj, who’s glaring at Adam’s back. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Nikolaj says mulishly, still looking like he’s trying to kill Adam with his eyes. “Just Lows being a dumbass.” His eyes finally flick over to Patrik’s—then immediately down. It’s too dark to see properly, but Patrik would bet a lot of money that Nik’s blushing. Huh. _That’s_ interesting. “He’s right, though, KC’s the worst, we should,” and he speeds up a little bit, catching Patrik off guard for just a second.

They’re outside before Patrik can ask what the hell all that was about. He’s almost tempted to buy Nik drinks until he can coax it out of him, but, y’know. He got Nik to sober up for a _reason_. So he decides he can ask later, and instead massages the nape of Nikolaj’s neck all the way to the next place, and the second they’re inside he lets Nikolaj drag him onto the dance floor.

Dancing very quickly turns to grinding, and grinding very quickly turns to Patrik sucking a mark into Nikolaj’s jaw and pressing his fingers so hard into Nikolaj’s hips it’ll probably leave bruises.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nikolaj gasps, his fingers tight in Patrik’s hair. “Patty—”

Patrik bites him, and Nikolaj’s voice cracks into a moan. “Yeah?”

Nikolaj tugs hard enough on Patrik’s hair to pull him back and meets his gaze, his eyes hard and his jaw set. “If you don’t touch my dick in the next five minutes we’re not fucking for a week.”

So they stumble off to the bathroom together, Patrik’s hand around Nikolaj’s wrist, both of them giggling like idiots. Patrik gets his hand down Nikolaj’s pants as soon as the stall door is locked behind them, applies just enough pressure and then maybe a little more. Nik pants and whines and lets Patrik stick his tongue down his throat, hips grinding against his hand, fingers clawing at Patrik’s forearm like he can’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer.

When Nikolaj comes, it’s with a high-pitched whine and a shiver up his spine. He cleans himself up with the toilet paper Patrik hands him and leans his head back to breathe, and the arch of his neck is so fucking inviting Patrik gives him another hickey right below the first.

“Okay, back off,” Nikolaj says after a minute. He shoves Patrik back against the other wall of the stall, a predatory grin curving across his face. “Your turn.” Then he sinks to his knees, and Patrik’s not gonna say no to _that_.

It doesn’t last long before Patrik’s breathing through the aftershocks of an orgasm. He scrapes his nails over Nikolaj’s scalp, shuddering when it makes Nikolaj hum around his oversensitive dick. “Fuck, Niky,” he groans, legs shaking as Nikolaj pulls off and presses a gentle kiss to his hip. “Your mouth— _fuck_.”

“I know, I’m the best,” Nik says, smirking up at Patrik, still on his knees with his hands braced against Patrik’s thighs. He looks so fucking _good_ down there, small and delicate and _Patrik’s_.

Patrik trails his fingers down the sharp line of Nikolaj’s jaw. “Should just keep you on your knees all the time,” he murmurs, pressing the tip of his thumb to the corner of Nik’s mouth, fingers pushing at the hickeys he left. “You look so good, Niky.”

Nikolaj shudders, eyes fluttering shut as he huffs out a laugh. “Don’t think I could play hockey like that.”

They keep their hands tangled all the way back to the rest of the guys. Kyle gives them a dirty look, Josh laughs and says, “ha, nice,” and Adam waggles his eyebrows at Nik so hard it looks like he’s having a seizure. Right, gotta remember to ask about whatever _that_ is.

“One more place,” Kyle says, after everyone’s had a few more drinks and they’ve all stopped asking Jack when the last time he got laid was. “Lemme schedule an Uber—uh, shit, my phone’s dead. Rosie?”

“Why the fuck would I wanna help you?”

“This isn’t about me, this is about the happy couple.”

Jack wrinkles his nose. “Patty literally, like two minutes ago, just asked me if I was still a virgin.”

Patrik grins. “You never said no.”

“I fucking did, though!”

“Ubers will be here in fifteen minutes,” Laurent says, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “You’re all a bunch of wild animals.”

Connor shrugs. “You’re the one who chose to stick around, though, so I think that says more about you.”

“I mean, it mostly says that Chevy offered me a good contract.”

There’s two more rounds of shots in the fifteen minutes it takes the Ubers to get there, plus some brightly coloured monstrosity the goalies buy for Nik just to see if he’ll drink it. He does, and afterwards he wraps his arms around Patrik’s neck and kisses him, tasting like sour candy. “Good, right?” he asks once he’s pulled back, grinning at Patrik even as half the guys around them are groaning. “You should get one. S’really good.”

Patrik huffs out a laugh. “You’re so drunk.”

“You guys’re gross,” Kyle slurs, leaning across the table and scowling at them. “Stop being gross.”

“Shut up, KC,” they say in unison. It makes Nikolaj giggle, slumping against Patrik, arms still wrapped loosely around his shoulders and fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. He’s sweaty and smells like alcohol and Patrik’s suddenly very aware of the fact that he gets to have this—he gets to _keep Nikolaj_ —for the rest of his life.

Then they’re all piling into the back of two vans, and Nikolaj leans up against Patrik’s side and nuzzles into his neck like a cat. “Put your seatbelt on, stupid,” Patrik tells him, and ends up having to help when Nik can’t stop laughing long enough to actually do it. “You’re a mess, Fly, this is pathetic.”

Nikolaj giggles, and rubs his cheek against Patrik’s shoulder. “You smell good.”

“I smell like that drink you spilled on me.”

A frown pulls at Nik’s mouth and he shakes his head, looking way too serious for someone so drunk. It’s hilarious. “Nooo,” he drags out, shuffling as close to Patrik’s side as he can get with the seatbelt in the way. He actually grabs Patrik’s hand and puts it on his thigh, which Patrik is gonna give him so much shit about later, and sighs into Patrik’s shirt. “You smell like—I dunno, you. It’s just. Nice.”

Patrik grins. “That’s sweet, Niky.”

“Y’know,” Josh says, twisting around the back of the front seat to look at them, “I think KC had the right idea when he refused to be in the same car as them.” He reaches back to bump his fist against Ben’s arm, like he’s looking for solidarity. “I think I preferred it when they used to make out in every car you put them in. That was somehow a lot more palatable than this.”

Ben glances back at them, too, but Patrik raises his eyebrows and all he does is turn forward again with a, “nope, not touching that.” He’s not gonna say anything, because he knows that _Patrik_ knows all the downright adorable things he and Sami call each other in a language nobody but Patrik can understand.

“We could make out if you want,” Patrik offers, squeezing his hand around Nik’s thigh.

Next to them, Jack groans. “Please don’t.” Then he perks up, eyes bright. “Actually, if you let me film it and post it online, you can do whatever you want.”

Josh laughs. “Trying to get a foothold in the voyeuristic sex tape market, Rosie?”

“I wasn’t planning on it being a sex tape,” Jack says, drunkenly fumbling his phone out of his pocket. “But I could probably sell that to someone for _at least_ five bucks, so go for it.”

“If we were going to make a sex tape I wouldn’t let _you_ film it,” Patrik says, fake offended. “We can afford professionals.”

Nikolaj snorts, head lolling against Patrik’s shoulder. “You couldn’t,” he mumbles indistinctly, patting at Patrik’s forearm before curling his fingers loosely around his wrist. “Too possessive to let anyone else see me.”

That’s . . . a really good point.

Ben sighs. “Do I need to be the one to remind you guys that sex tapes are a _bad_ idea?”

“You know how the saying goes, Benny,” Josh says with a laugh. “All press is good press.” 

Sami’s been quiet the whole car ride, and Patrik thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but he suddenly chuckles. “It would make chirping very, um, interesting?”

Ben laughs. “That’s one word for it.”

“That’d be _bad_ ,” Nikolaj actually whines, fingers digging into Patrik’s forearm. “No sex tape, Patty, that’d be so bad.”

“I wasn’t planning on us having a sex tape.”

“Good, because it’d be _bad_.” He slumps even heavier against Patrik’s side. “If people saw, they’d—they’d say—“ He doesn’t seem to be able to come up with any specific examples, just makes a frustrated noise into Patrik’s shoulder and finishes the sentence with, “they’d say _bullshit_.”

Yeah, Patrik can imagine. There’s a lot of chirping material to work with. He’s not even sure which of them would get it worse.

“Oh, hey,” Josh says, “we’re here.”

They all pile out of the van, apparently a few minutes ahead of the group, and . . . they’re at the Iceplex. Patrik stares up at the building, splaying a hand vaguely on Nik’s waist to keep him steady. “What are we doing here?” 

Jack rolls his eyes. “The fuck do you think?”

“Well yeah, but we don’t have our skates.”

“We grabbed them while you were changing back at your place,” Josh says, sidling over to bump his shoulder against Patrik’s. “And we got the new equipment manager to bring them over and get everything set up. KC made the point that we couldn’t do a bachelor party for two NHL players without skating, so, here we are.”

When Patrik glances down at Nikolaj, he looks like he might be about to cry. His eyes are all big, his chin all wobbly. It’s adorable. 

Apparently Jack’s noticed too. He laughs, loud and drunk. “Is Fly gonna be okay? Are we gonna make him cry?”

Nikolaj’s mouth twists into a scowl. “Fuck you, Rosie.” He reaches into Patrik’s space, flailing a little awkwardly until his fingers brush against Patrik’s palm and he winds their hands together. He’s still glaring at Jack, and Patrik wonders whether he’s even realized he’s done it. “I’m not gonna _cry_.”

Patrik squeezes his hand, and Nikolaj glances down with his eyes wide and an expression on his face like he can’t _believe_ they’re holding hands, and Patrik really can’t stop himself from busting a gut laughing. “You’re _so_ drunk,” he manages through the giggles. Then, because he can, he lifts Nik’s hand up and kisses Nik’s knuckles. 

Now Nikolaj _really_ looks like he’s about to cry.

“ _Gross_ ,” Kyle shouts, from across the parking lot, since apparently they’ve finally shown up. Patrik flips him off, kissing the sharp bone of Nikolaj’s wrist before letting their hands drop. 

They all head inside, and their skates are waiting for them in the locker room. Patrik laces up his skates, then ends up hauling Nik’s feet up onto his lap when it turns out he’s so drunk he can’t even tie a knot. “This is nice,” Nik says, patting Patrik’s forearm, his grin stupidly smug. “You should do this all the time.”

Patrik snorts. “No way.”

“You’re gonna be my husband,” Nikolaj murmurs, his voice suddenly low, head dipped so he’s looking up at Patrik through his lashes. “Don’t you wanna spoil me?”

Patrik really kind of hates how much that whole stupid display is _working_ for him. “No,” he snaps, just to be contrary, tugging Nik’s skate laces a little too tight. “Don’t be a brat.”

A delighted grin curves across Nikolaj’s face. “I almost got you!”

“You didn’t,” Patrik says. He definitely almost did.

“See, s’what I mean,” Nikolaj says, leaning in close, voice dropping back down. “ _Housewife kink_.”

Patrik glances around, and a few of the guys are looking over, so he drops his eyes back to Nikolaj’s skates and keeps tying them up even though Nik’s bouncing his leg. “Shut up,” he says, ignoring the flush starting to creep up the back of his neck. “I don’t have a—” He lowers his voice, hoping nobody else can hear them. “A _housewife_ thing.”

“You _do_ ,” Nikolaj giggles. “But s’okay, Patty, I’m not judging.”

“He doesn’t have any room to judge,” Adam says, suddenly right fucking there next to them.

Nikolaj yelps, almost falling off the bench and taking Patrik’s leg off with the blade of his skate. “What are—why!” He scowls up at Adam. “Fuck off, Lows, you can’t—”

“ _I’m just saying_ ,” Adam drawls out. “You can’t judge—what’d you say? Patty’s housewife kink?”

“I don’t have a housewife kink!”

“Babe, are you harassing the guests of honour?” Great, now Brandon’s coming over too, an incredulous grin on his face as his arm slings casually around Adam’s waist. “So, uh, what’s this I hear about Patty?”

Adam grins, and leans against Brandon’s side. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, and Patrik’s about to interrupt him when Nikolaj does it first. “Shut up, Lows, you like getting tied up during sex,” he snaps, only slurring through it a little, eyes bright and a flush high up on his cheeks. “ _You_ can’t judge.”

Brandon blinks at all of them. Then he starts laughing. “Okay, let’s just,” and he starts steering Adam away from them. Probably for the best, because Adam looks like he’s offended enough to start a real actual fight, and Patrik doesn’t wanna hit someone so clearly drunk off their ass. “Hurry up, guys, everyone’s waiting.”

“Blame Nik.” Patrik turns his attention back to Nikolaj’s skates. “So what’s with you and Lows?”

“Huh?”

“You know.” He pokes Nikolaj in the knee, glancing up to see Nikolaj looking at him in confusion. It’s adorable. “Why are you acting all weird?”

Suddenly the flush is climbing back up Nikolaj’s cheek, his eyes going wide. “I’m not,” he sputters. It’s really not convincing, and Patrik just raises his brows and keeps staring. Nikolaj makes a frustrated noise. “I just—I _said_ something, and now he’s being a _dick_ ‘cause he’s—he’s _Lows_ , he’s _always_ a dick.”

Patrik’s curiosity spikes. “What’d you say?”

Nik’s mouth twists up, shoulders curling in. “I’m not telling you.” Maybe he knows Patrik’s about to press, because his gaze shutters off to the side and he pouts, before very carefully enunciating, “it’s a _surprise_ , Patty, leave—leave it there.”

Huh. “A surprise?”

“Yeah, and that’s all I’m saying.” Nikolaj wiggles his foot. “You done yet?”

He ties the last knot, then shoves Nik’s feet off his lap and onto the floor. “Don’t complain when I’m doing this _for_ you,” he says, standing up, only briefly considering not offering a hand to help Nikolaj up in turn. He does, though, and Nikolaj’s hand is slim and warm in his. “It’s not my fault you’re this drunk.”

“Not _that_ drunk,” Nikolaj mumbles, which is a joke, because he’d be swaying on his skates if Patrik didn’t have a hand on his back keeping him steady. “Let’s just go, I wanna skate.”

Patrik’s not even sure if he’ll be able to skate on his own. Which is annoying, but also really speaks to the part of Patrik that just wants to wrap Nikolaj up and hold him forever, the part that likes being so much stronger in comparison. Usually it’s in a sexier context, but there’s something viscerally satisfying about the idea of being the thing Nikolaj leans on when he’s this much of a mess. Maybe he just always likes Nik a little bit helpless.

Fuck. It’s a good thing Nik’s too drunk to tell what’s going through Patrik’s head, because he’s really not making a case for himself with the whole housewife thing.

When they finally get out, nobody else has stepped on the ice yet. “You’ve gotta be first,” Kyle says, stumbling over the words, gesturing at the open sheet of ice in a way that’s somehow sarcastic. “For luck, y’know?” Warmth floods up Patrik’s chest. There’s really nothing more meaningful from a bunch of hockey players than insisting he and Nik get their skates on the ice first at their bachelor party.

“Thanks, KC,” he says, rubbing Nikolaj’s back when, once again, he looks like he might cry. 

“You’re getting _married_ ,” Kyle drags out, the word heavy with significance. “I’m so fuckin’ happy for you guys.” He sniffs, then rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand. “Now get on the ice and stop making us wait.”

Patrik steps out onto the ice first, then turns around and helps Nikolaj on so he doesn’t slip and brain himself on the boards. He laces their fingers together and tugs Nikolaj into a lap around the rink, and something inside him settles into place, like he’s finally exactly where he belongs for the first time in his life. It’s something he’s felt before—when he started playing in the NHL, when they won the Cup—but it’s never been quite so comforting.

Nikolaj squeezes his fingers, murmurs, “Patty,” and when Patrik turns to look his eyes are wet with tears. “C’mere.”

“Oh,” Patrik says a bit dumbly, opening up his arms as Nikolaj steps into his space and hunches forward against his chest. Nikolaj’s fingers curl into the fabric of Patrik’s shirt near his waist, face tucking into the crook of Patrik’s neck, and when Patrik spreads both hands wide across his back he can feel the weird, shuddery little sobs catching in Nik’s chest. He winds his arms tighter around Nik’s back and glances up at the rest of the guys with a grin and, “congratulations, you made Niky cry.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Nikolaj whines, hiccupping halfway through. “Doesn’t count, I’m _drunk_.”

“Sure,” Patrik says good-naturedly. He rocks them a bit, mindful of Nikolaj’s precarious balance, hands rubbing up and down his back. “Whatever you say, Niky.”

Jack whoops, almost stumbling as he steps onto the ice. “Knew it!” He skates up, stopping up way too close and showering their legs in a flurry of snow. “I knew we could get you, Fly, you big baby.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Rosie,” Nikolaj snaps. The effect of it is kind of ruined by the crack in his voice and how it’s muffled against Patrik’s skin. “This—this has nothing to do with you, anyway, _you_ didn’t—” He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and his arms wrap tightly around Patrik’s waist. “This is _Patty_.”

Something goes weird and wobbly in Patrik’s chest, and he smiles against Nikolaj’s hair. “So _I_ made you cry?”

Very slowly, Nikolaj nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I—I’m just really in love with you.”

Oh. “I’m really in love with you, too,” Patrik says, feeling a little like he’s just as drunk as Nikolaj.

“You guys are fuckin’ gross,” Kyle says, skating gracelessly over to them. “Stop being such saps, it’s making me wanna vomit.” He still reaches over to ruffle Nik’s hair and shove playfully at Patrik’s shoulder, and his voice is all thick and weird, so Patrik’s pretty sure he’s just trying not to cry too.

Eventually Nikolaj stops crying. He sobers up as they skate, getting more and more steady on his legs, but he doesn’t move away from Patrik the whole time. Patrik doesn’t care, because he’s feeling just as clingy—winding their fingers together or throwing their arms around each other or curling his hand around the back of Nik’s neck and massaging the muscle of his shoulder. They’re getting married in three weeks. Nobody’s allowed to get on their asses about being too clingy.

Patrik’s lost track of time when they all take off their skates and head back outside, waiting for the Ubers to take them home. He’s ready to just curl up in bed with Nikolaj and sleep off all the action and emotion from tonight. And then maybe have slow, romantic sex tomorrow morning. It’s that kind of mood.

“Oh, before we forget,” Josh says, interrupting whatever conversation he was having with Adam and Brandon to turn in Patrik and Nikolaj’s direction. “We’ve all come to the conclusion that from this point on you two aren’t allowed to have sex until the wedding night.”

Patrik blinks at him. 

Nikolaj’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck.”

“No, it makes sense,” Connor says casually, sauntering over to lean on Josh’s shoulder. “Usually you’re supposed to wait until marriage to have sex, but since that ship has sailed, this is the next best thing.”

“We’re not getting married for _three weeks_ ,” Nikolaj snarls. “We’re not fucking doing that.”

Adam huffs out a laugh. “Pussies.”

Later, when they’re back home and tugging off their clothes, Patrik’s still thinking about it. They climb into bed together, Nikolaj draping himself over Patrik’s chest and tucking his face into Patrik’s neck, finding Patrik’s hand and threading their fingers together. 

“Hey,” Patrik says, his voice low in the quiet of their room. “What if we do the waiting thing?”

Nikolaj groans. “Not you too.”

A laugh rumbles through Patrik’s chest. “The wedding night is supposed to be special, Niky.”

“It’s gonna be special,” Nikolaj mumbles, so quiet Patrik can barely hear him. “We don’t need to stop fucking for _that_.”

“It’s _always_ better when it’s been a while,” Patrik points out, his hands sweeping up the bare skin of Nikolaj’s back, fingertips pressing into the movement of muscle as he breathes. “If we haven’t had sex for three weeks _and_ it’s our wedding night, it’ll be _really_ good.” Even though Nik can’t see him, he grins wide and reaches down to grab at the thigh Nikolaj’s thrown over his legs, digging his fingers in hard enough to make Nik squeak. “Unless you think you’ll be too desperate for my dick to last that long.”

For a long second, Nikolaj’s quiet. His breathing is a little loud, though, and the muscles of his thigh are jumping under Patrik’s fingers. Then he braces against Patrik’s chest and lifts up, a scowl already twisting his features. “You think I couldn’t do it?”

Patrik’s grin curves wider. “I know you, Niky,” he croons, fingers trailing up the underside of Nik’s thigh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. “You always want it.”

“I’m not gonna die without your dick.” Nikolaj’s eyes are bright even in the darkness of the room. “Fine, Patty, have it your way. No fucking until the wedding. Not even a _handjob_.”

Somehow it’s turned into a challenge. Patrik isn’t surprised. 

“It’s on.”

* * *

Patrik’s lounging in his chair, playing a game and trying desperately not to get his ass shot, when Nikolaj walks past him and collapses on the couch. He’s fucking around on his phone, legs stretched out, and usually Patrik wouldn’t be noticing any of this because he’s in the middle of a match and he’s about to die, _except_ —

Except Nikolaj looks like a goddamn wet dream. He just got out of the shower so he’s still damp, wet hair dripping down over his forehead. And he’s wearing Patrik’s shirt. He’s wearing _only_ Patrik’s shirt.

It’s just a plain t-shirt, light grey with a Jets logo across the chest. But it’s hanging loose around his shoulders, his arms, the excess fabric folded weird around his narrow waist. It’s only just barely long enough to hide whether or not he’s wearing underwear, revealing his bare legs stretched all the way across the couch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrik sees his character’s death onscreen. Nikolaj’s mouth tugs up in a tiny little smirk.

_Brat_.

“Fly,” Patrik says, setting his controller down, “that’s my shirt.”

“Is it?” Nikolaj slowly, deliberately glances down at himself, and Patrik can’t resist dragging his own gaze up the length of Nikolaj’s bare legs and over the loose fit of his (Patrik’s) shirt. When he finally manages to look up again Nikolaj’s grinning, all smugness and bright blue eyes. It’s awful how _good_ he looks. “I just grabbed the first thing I saw.”

Patrik narrows his eyes. “It’s too big on you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Nikolaj shrugs, still grinning. “I guess it is.”

Patrik, suddenly, regrets the pact not to even fool around until the wedding night. He wants to get between Nikolaj’s toned legs, mark up the insides of his thighs with hickeys and bitemarks until he’s shaking and babbling and begging for Patrik to fuck him. And then Patrik would, but he’d take his time, go slow until Nik was mindless and crying and desperate.

But he can’t. Because that’d be admitting defeat. And Nikolaj knows that.

“You don’t mind, right?” Nikolaj asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. “I don’t wanna change, it’s comfy and it smells good.” He brings the collar of the shirt up around his nose, breathes in deep and melts back into the couch, a smirk still playing at the edges of his mouth.

Well, fine. If that’s the game Nikolaj wants to play, Patrik’s not about to let him _win_.

* * *

Technically, Patrik’s supposed to be helping with dishes. Nikolaj’s elbow-deep in dishwater and bubbles, water already splashed up the front of his shirt from when he dropped that lid back into the water, and he keeps glaring back over his shoulder and loudly complaining about how _it’d be nice to get some help, maybe_. 

Patrik’s busy, though. Nikolaj’s taken to pretty much only wearing Patrik’s shirts while they’re home alone together—this time it’s a floral t-shirt, one of the ones he always complains about but can never get enough of when Patrik’s actually wearing it—and like this, Patrik gets to admire the toned length of his bare legs and the way the shirt sits on his narrower shoulders. 

Not to mention how pretty Nikolaj looks in floral.

Nikolaj glances back again, glaring invitingly at Patrik like he’s daring him to do something. It’s reminiscent of all those times he’s bent Nik over something and Nik looks back to egg him on, to say, _c’mon, Patty, is that all you’ve got?_

Patrik finally pushes away from the island counter. He steps right up into Nikolaj’s space, hands gripping at his waist, hips pressed up against his ass.

“This isn’t help,” Nikolaj says drily.

“It’s not?” Patrik crooks a finger in the collar of the shirt, pulling it aside to give himself room to mouth a line up Nikolaj’s shoulder and the slope of his neck. “Oops.” He punctuates it with a bite to Nikolaj’s throat, hips grinding forward, other hand rucking up under Nikolaj’s shirt to play with the waistband of his briefs.

“Woah,” Nikolaj says, shakily, breathlessly. “Patty, what are you—“

Patrik bites him again, latching his teeth into Nik’s skin to suck a mark there, and Nikolaj’s words break into a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat. With his hands still in the gloves and submerged in soapy water there’s not much he can do to push Patrik away or direct him, and that’s _really_ doing something for Patrik right now. He rolls his hips up against Nikolaj’s ass, drags his hand down so he’s palming at Nikolaj’s inner thigh, still sucking and biting at the quickly-forming bruise on his neck.

“Patty,” Nikolaj says uncertainly. “Um.” His head falls to the side, back arching to press his ass back against Patrik’s dick, and that’s exactly what Patrik was looking for.

He steps back, ignoring the magnetic pull to be back against Nikolaj’s body. “Hurry up and finish the dishes,” he says with a grin, swatting Nikolaj’s ass and making him jump.

A long few seconds pass while Nikolaj just stands there, hunched over and breathing hard. “What—“ His voice cracks, and he swallows audibly. “What the fuck, Patrik.”

“I’m going to go put on a movie,” Patrik says, already heading out of the kitchen. “Come find me when you’re done.”

He watches for a little while longer as Nikolaj struggles to get his breathing under control. As he slowly picks the dishes back up again, body locked tight, legs angled awkwardly as he stands with his thighs pressed together. His shoulders are hunched and hanging like he’s miserable, and Patrik would maybe feel bad about escalating _this_ much, but.

Well, Nikolaj started this, and Patrik never promised to play fair.

* * *

The three weeks between the bachelor party and the day they have to catch the flight to Denmark are probably the longest three weeks of Patrik’s life. Partly because he’s fucking excited for the wedding, and partly because he and Nikolaj are making each other’s lives _hell_. He feels like a horny teenager again, ready to go from just about anything, popping a boner from just casual makeouts. It’s agonizing, but also kind of hilarious, because Nikolaj’s in the exact same boat and is a _lot_ more vocal about complaining.

Then they’re getting on a plane—Patrik keeps a hand on Nikolaj’s thigh for the entirety of both flights just to see Nik glare at him with a flush high on his cheeks—and about fifteen hours later they’re touching down in Copenhagen. They drive their rental car to their hotel, and despite napping on the plane and it not even being noon yet Patrik’s ready to lie down and sleep for the entire three days until the wedding.

He doesn’t. Instead he just collapses on their bed, watching as Nikolaj steps out onto the balcony and leans against the railing. He’s wearing one of Patrik’s shirts again, claiming it would be comfy on the flight, but at least this time he’s wearing actual pants with it.

Even without his legs on display he’s irresistible, because Patrik’s _suffering_. He hauls himself up off the bed, heading out onto the balcony and slotting himself up against Nikolaj’s back, arms wrapping around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. They’ve got a view of the beach, all pale sand with a bright blue ocean beyond it, the sky mostly free of clouds and the air smelling like salt. It’s admittedly a gorgeous view. Patrik can see why Nikolaj came out here.

“Hey,” he says quietly, nosing against the nape of Nikolaj’s neck, arms tightening around his waist. “I wanna fuck you over this railing.”

Nikolaj barks out a startled laugh. It’s not Patrik’s imagination that he sounds a little shaky when he says, “yeah, not happening.”

“Well, not for three days.”

“Not at _all_ ,” Nikolaj drawls. “ _Maybe_ I’ll think about it on the honeymoon, if you’re lucky.”

“Good to know,” Patrik says, because _maybe_ from Nikolaj really just means _yes_. He presses a soft kiss to the slope of Nikolaj’s neck, leaning a little heavier against his back. They’re not meeting Eva until tomorrow morning, and nobody’s gonna start showing up until tomorrow afternoon, so they’ve got the entire rest of today to themselves. “What should we do today?”

“I dunno, let’s be romantic.” Nikolaj turns his head to the side, until Patrik takes the hint and kisses the corner of his mouth. “We’re getting married, we should go do those dumb love padlocks on Bryggebroen and walk in the Botanical Garden or whatever.”

Patrik smiles against his neck. “That’s adorable, Niky.”

“Well it’s not like we can stay in and fuck.”

Fair point. If Patrik wasn’t so stubborn he’d have Nikolaj spread out across those nice fresh bedsheets. Since he is stubborn, though, he just trails his hands down to rest at Nikolaj’s hips and kisses his neck again. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do the romantic stuff.”

“Okay,” Nikolaj repeats. He turns in Patrik’s arms, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before pushing past and heading back inside. Then he turns around, a wicked grin already curved over his face and bright in his eyes. “I’m gonna have a shower, wanna join me?”

It’s a really bad idea. Patrik’s already tugging his shirt off.

After a thoroughly infuriating shower—the only thing worse than not being able to fuck Nikolaj is not being able to fuck him when he’s wet and naked and plastering himself against Patrik’s body—they head out. They drive with the windows down, warm summer air blowing in, and Patrik can’t stop staring at the soft little grin on Nikolaj’s face as he drives and sings along to the radio. He’s relaxed and loose and happy, and Patrik’s so in love with him he can barely breathe. Fuck, he can’t wait to get married.

They buy a plain gold padlock and a black marker at the mall near Bryggebroen bridge, Nikolaj’s ears going a little red when the woman behind the till smiles and says something teasing. Patrik still doesn’t know much Danish, but he can guess at what she’s saying. They _are_ being a little cliche right now, after all. 

“That was cute,” he tells Nikolaj when they’re outside, finding his hand and slotting their fingers together.

Nikolaj rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Patty.”

They walk hand-in-hand over the bridge, to where most of the other padlocks are clustered. It’s the kind of romantic thing Patrik never gave much thought to before being with Nikolaj; something that always seemed kind of pointless, almost stupid. Now, though, as they scrawl their initials on the lock and Nikolaj tosses the key into the harbour, Patrik can appreciate the gesture. There’s something heartwarming about the idea of symbolically locking themselves together and throwing away the key.

“That was so stupid,” Nikolaj says, still staring out at the water. He’s grinning ear-to-ear.

“Really stupid,” Patrik agrees, and nuzzles into Nikolaj’s hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

They stand there for a long time, just looking out over the harbour.

After getting lunch in some nice restaurant right on the water they head to the Botanical Gardens, walking around and taking pictures like a couple of tourists, which, _technically_ they are. It’s beautiful, and Nikolaj gets another couple to take a picture of them so he can post it on his instagram with a nondescript Danish caption. Then they go out for dinner, where Nikolaj keeps making _eyes_ at Patrik over his wine glass and dragging his foot up the side of Patrik’s leg.

“You’re terrible,” Patrik tells him, after their waiter’s left again and Nikolaj’s toe presses against the inside of his knee. “Really terrible.”

Nikolaj laughs, head tipping back to show the stretch of his throat. “I’m not doing anything,” he says through a blatant smirk. He traps Patrik’s ankle between his feet and leans forward, eyes heavy-lidded and voice low when he purrs, “what am I doing, Patty?”

Sometimes, Patrik really hates how much _coy_ does it for him. “Shut up.”

When they finally stumble back into their hotel room suite later in the evening Patrik presses Nikolaj up against the wall and licks into his mouth, swallowing down both of their moans. Nikolaj bucks up against him when he grinds their hips together, teeth digging into Patrik’s lower lip, hands curling in Patrik’s belt. It’s hot and heavy and _intoxicating_ , and it takes genuine effort for Patrik to shove off and back off a few steps.

“Fuck,” Nikolaj breathes, chest heaving, legs shaking. “This is _hard_.”

Patrik stares pointedly at Nikolaj’s dick, straining against his jeans. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Nikolaj makes a face. “Stupid joke,” he mutters, dragging a hand back through his hair. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking hunched and defensive and pathetic. “Why’d we agree to do this again?”

Patrik’s been asking himself the same thing. Unfortunately he knows the answer. “Because it’ll be worth it,” he says, eyes caught on the rise and fall of Nikolaj’s chest. That’s what he keeps repeating in his head, to convince himself not to throw Nikolaj against whatever flat surface happens to be closest at the time. “You know it’ll be worth it.”

“It doesn’t feel worth it,” Nikolaj whines.

“Also ‘cause if you can’t handle it that means you lose.”

Eyes narrowing, Nikolaj uncrosses his arms and pushes away from the wall. “I can handle it.” He shoves past Patrik, collapsing face-first on the bed and grabbing the remote so he can start flicking through the channels. Then he looks back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Can _you_ handle it?” There’s a challenging edge to his voice, and _fuck_ Patrik wants to blanket his body and fuck into him until he’s whimpering.

“I can handle it,” he says roughly, a few seconds too late. Nikolaj smirks.

This was a terrible idea.

* * *

They meet with Eva the next morning to go over _everything_ , making sure they’re prepared. Then the afternoon and evening are a flurry of people arriving. Nikolaj huddles up with his family when they arrive, emotional and tactile, and when Patrik’s family gets there Pinja wraps him up tight and tells him, again, that she’s happy for him. 

It’s all starting to sink in. Now that Patrik’s family is here—now that his mom is asking about decorations and catering, and his dad’s asking about his suit, and Pinja’s asking about the rings—he’s realizing that this is actually happening. He’s a grown man, twenty-six years old, getting married to his best friend in two days.

It’s really all a _lot_ , when he thinks about it like that.

Extended family starts showing up after that, then team members and everyone else. For the rest of the day and the entire morning of the next Patrik feels like he’s doing nothing but greeting guests, asking how their flights were, making sure they’ve got their rooms sorted. It’s fucking exhausting. Thank god he and Nikolaj are getting massages in the afternoon, because he _needs_ it.

Then there’s a dinner with everyone in the wedding party plus both their parents, casual and cheerful and somehow the perfect mix of well wishes and chirping. And after _that_ the kids of both families—Pinja, Sebastian and his wife, Caroline and her boyfriend—crowd into Patrik and Nikolaj’s room to watch some movie with Mads Mikkelson in it that Patrik doesn’t understand and barely tries to. He just wraps both arms around Nikolaj’s waist where he’s leaning back against Patrik’s chest and lets his eyes drift shut listening to the laughter of people who’ve become his family.

Everyone leaves when the movie’s done, and then Patrik and Nikolaj are left alone.

“Holy shit,” Nikolaj says, looking at Patrik with wide blue eyes, “we’re getting married tomorrow.”

Patrik’s stomach swoops up into his throat. “Yeah,” he says, “we are.” It’s second nature, to approach Nikolaj and spread both hands over the sharp planes of his face, bottom two fingers tucked under his jaw, thumbs pressed against his ridiculous cheekbones. “I love you, _kultaseni_.”

Nikolaj smiles, hands curling loosely around Patrik’s wrists, fingertips tracing circles on the sensitive skin of his inner wrists. “I love you too,” he says, eyes soft as he gazes up at Patrik. “Kiss me?”

There’s no way he can say no to that. He leans down and kisses Nikolaj sweet and slow, smiling into it when Nikolaj hums and tips his head up. It’s too easy to get lost in it, Nikolaj’s arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, and it feels like an hour’s passed when they finally break apart and breathe.

“We should sleep,” Patrik murmurs, mouth moving against Nikolaj’s lips. “Big day tomorrow.”

Nikolaj giggles. “Yeah, you could say that.” He steps back from Patrik’s hands, grinning big and bright. “We’re gonna be married by this time tomorrow.” 

Patrik raises his eyebrows. “I’m gonna fuck you by this time tomorrow.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” Nikolaj complains, but he’s grinning even wider and there’s a flush creeping up his cheeks. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say more, but then a weird look passes over his face and he visibly shakes it off. “C’mon,” he says instead, turning away from Patrik and heading back towards their bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it in the direction of their empty bags. “If you fall asleep during our wedding because you stayed up too late I’m never letting you touch me again.”

Usually Patrik would call his bluff, but this time he’s pretty sure Nikolaj’s not bluffing.

They strip down to their boxers and climb into bed, legs tangled together and Patrik’s face tucked into the crook of Nikolaj’s neck. “Night, Niky,” Patrik murmurs into Nikolaj’s skin. “Love you. Can’t wait to marry you.”

The arm Nikolaj’s got wrapped around his shoulder draws tighter. “Me too.”

* * *

Patrik wakes up to a knock on their door, just loud enough that it’s ringing in his sleep-fogged head. He groans, burying his nose against Nikolaj’s neck, hoping that maybe it’s his imagination or that whoever it is will take the hint and go away. Nope. More knocking, louder this time, echoing around in his skull.

“Go get the door,” Nikolaj mumbles, sounding like he’s probably been awake a little while now. He shoves uselessly at Patrik’s shoulder, his other hand wound into Patrik’s hair, fingers scratching over his scalp. “‘S probably Wheels, or something.”

Groaning, Patrik shifts so he’s laying a little more solidly on Nikolaj’s body. “You get it.” 

“Can’t do anything with you on top of me,” Nikolaj points out, which, fair. But also, Patrik doesn’t want to lose his body heat. “And you’re on top right now anyway, so it makes sense for you to get up.”

He hides a smirk against Nikolaj’s skin. “I’m always on top.”

Now it’s Nikolaj’s turn to groan. “If you’re awake enough to make bad jokes, you’re awake enough to get the door.”

Eventually Patrik _does_ get up, because he doesn’t want whoever’s knocking to start getting impatient and think they’re planning on sleeping through their own wedding. He throws on a pair of sweats first, pushes his short hair back and away from his face, feeling Nikolaj’s eyes on him as he heads over to the door. The blatant appreciation is nice, but it’d be a lot _nicer_ if he could actually do something about it.

When he opens the door, Kyle, Mark and Blake are on the other side. “What.”

“You’re getting married today, that’s what,” Kyle says, grinning as he sidesteps Patrik and ducks into their room. Evasive little shit. “And we’re your groomsmen, so we’re gonna hang out until we have to get ready.”

Patrik frowns. “We just woke up.”

Mark looks like he’s barely containing laughter. “It’s not really all that early, bud.”

From back in the room, Nikolaj groans, loud and dramatic. Patrik turns around and follows the sound until Nik’s in view again, arms thrown up and crossed over his eyes while Kyle fiddles with their Playstation. “Seriously?” Nik sits up, the covers pooling around his waist, sharp features set into a glare that’s kind of ruined by how sleepy his eyes look. “God, you’re useless. You just let KC in?” Mark and Blake follow him in, and Nikolaj’s eyes narrow. “ _And_ Wheels and Scheifs?”

“Morning, Nik,” Blake says cheerfully. “Lighten up a little, it’s your wedding day.”

Nikolaj’s scowl melts away, his eyes going a bit hazy. “Shit,” he says, so quietly Patrik’s not sure he meant to. “It really is, huh.”

“Congratulations, guys,” Mark says with a grin, “you’re about to be married!”

“Yeah, congrats,” Kyle says vaguely, without even looking up from the Playstation. “Oh, good, you guys brought ‘chel.” He tosses both controllers onto the bed, only just narrowly missing Nikolaj’s shin. “So, how about a tournament?”

Patrik and Nikolaj share a glance. Nikolaj shrugs. “As long as you guys don’t expect me to put on pants.”

They order a pretty ridiculous room service breakfast and settle in for a bullshit tournament with bullshit rules that Patrik’s pretty sure Kyle made up specifically to fuck with him. It gets competitive way too quickly, but it makes the weird nervous energy Patrik woke up with fizzle out, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that only gets stronger whenever he sees the stupid smug grin on Nikolaj’s face. Which is completely fucking sappy, but Patrik doesn’t really mind.

Luckily Nikolaj’s put on pants by the time their immediate families show up, armed with stylists and garment bags and terrifying, infectious enthusiasm. Eva and their photographer are along too, talking to each other in rushed Danish. Nikolaj gets ushered off for a shower while the women sequester themselves in the other room of their suite; he comes out drowning in one of the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobes, wide-eyed and weirdly flushed, and before Patrik can ask why his face looks so stupid he’s being shoved in the direction of the bathroom.

He takes his time showering, letting the heat of the water relax his tense muscles, head tipping back to let water drip down his chin. Then he towels off and steps out to see Nikolaj halfway into his suit, and his heart goes a little bit crazy.

“Woah,” he says, and Nikolaj’s fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“Sorry, no time for staring,” Blake says, directing Patrik over to where his own suit’s still hanging in its garment bag. “You can’t really get married in a bathrobe.”

Patrik nods. “You have the rings?”

Blake pats the pocket of his black suit pants. “Right here.” 

Halfway through getting dressed he feels eyes on him. It takes a lot of effort not to turn around and see whatever expression is on Nikolaj’s face; the only reason he doesn’t is because if he looks, he won’t be able to _stop_ , and he doesn’t want Blake pulling rank and chastising him in his Captain Voice. That’d just be weird.

When he’s finally done Patrik straightens his bowtie, turns around, and kind of feels like he just got punched in the face. Nikolaj looks _incredible_. He’s in a tailored grey suit that’s cut to emphasize the slimness of his waist and the wiry strength of his shoulders and the length of his legs, with a dark blue tie and pocket square and it’s—it’s way too much. Patrik sees Nikolaj in suits all the time, but there’s something very significant about it being a _wedding_ suit. Like, Nikolaj’s a _groom._

Holy shit, so is _Patrik_.

“Wow,” he says quietly, stepping closer, into Nikolaj’s space. Nikolaj’s staring at him wide-eyed, looking more than a little breathless. “Niky, you’re—you look—” The words aren’t coming in English, he’s tripping over his own tongue, so he just says them in Finnish. He calls Nikolaj _beautiful_ and _perfect_ and tells him how happy he is to be getting married to him. And maybe Nikolaj doesn’t know Finnish, but he knows Patrik, and from the way his cheeks are flushing and a smile’s curling over his face, he understands perfectly what Patrik’s trying to get across.

“Yeah,” Nikolaj says, reaching up to fiddle with Patrik’s lapel. “You too.”

Finally the women come in from the other room, Pinja and Caroline all done up with fancy hair and flowy dresses the same soft pink as Patrik’s bow tie. It’s starting to get really surreal, how close they are to actually _being married_. Everyone’s doing last minute checks, making sure they’re ready, making sure everything’s in order. Patrik steps close to Nikolaj and threads their fingers together just to feel a little less like he’s gonna float away.

Then, somehow, it’s five minutes before they’re supposed to walk out and they’re alone just inside the hotel, waiting to step onto the beachside terrace where they’re getting married. The rest of the wedding party has just disappeared to walk to aisle, and any second it’ll be their turn. 

Patrik reaches for Nikolaj’s hand again. “Ready?”

Nikolaj squeezes their fingers together, hard enough to hurt. “Yeah.”

“You nervous?”

A shaky, soft little laugh spills out of Nikolaj’s mouth. “Kinda. I’m a little worried something’s gonna go awful, like I’ll get shit on by a bird.” 

Patrik shrugs. “If anyone gets shit on by a bird it’ll be me. I’m taller.”

Nikolaj blinks at him. “It doesn’t work like _lightning_ , stupid.”

“Well, no shit.” He bumps their entwined hands against Nikolaj’s thigh, rolling his eyes. “I just mean I’m a bigger target.”

“Yeah, you have gotten fat this offseason.”

Patrik narrows his eyes, because first of all that’s not even true, and second of all—really? On their wedding day? Literally five minutes away from being married?

It must be written all over his face, because Nikolaj’s expression cracks into laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he snickers, thumb stroking over the back of Patrik’s index finger. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, babe.” Then the edge of his smile softens, and he steps close enough to Patrik he has to tilt his head back so they can look at each other head on. His eyes look beautiful, the blue even brighter with the colour of his tie. “Y’know, I’m just really, _really_ excited to marry you.”

Patrik’s fingers itch to tuck up under Nikolaj’s jacket and splay across his waist, to curl into the freshly ironed fabric of his dress shirt. He just squeezes Nikolaj’s hand tighter. “Fuck, Niky,” he murmurs, emotion swelling in his chest. “Me too.”

Eva pokes her head into the room. “It’s time,” she says, offering a smile while she taps away at something on her phone. “Are you two ready?”

Patrik tightens his grip on Nikolaj’s hand. “We’re ready.”

It’s kind of funny, how it all happens; drawn out, slow motion, but also passing over in a blur. When they step out into the sunlight and start the walk up the aisle it almost feels like . . . like being drafted. Surrounded by people who all have their eyes on him, watching him walk up for one of the biggest moments of his life. Terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The difference is that this time, he has Nikolaj at his side, Nikolaj’s hand in his. 

When the actual ceremony starts Patrik feels a bit like he’s seeing through a fog, and a bit like every single detail is searing itself onto the backs of his eyelids. They read the vows they wrote to each other, half in English and half in their native languages. As good as his English has gotten over the years, there are some things Patrik only really knows how to say in Finnish. All those complicated emotions and pretty ideas that English just can’t quite pin down the way he wants. Then he slides a ring onto Nikolaj’s hand, covering the black band of his tattoo, just a hint of bleeding ink peeking out from beneath the brushed gold.

The officiant pronounces them married, and Patrik thinks, _huh_.

Distantly, Patrik’s aware that people are cheering. He can’t hear anything beyond the rushing in his ears and the memory of how Nikolaj’s voice had sounded reading his vows, low and a bit rough and almost on the edge of tears. And now Nikolaj’s grinning at him, soft and vulnerable, and holy shit, they just got _married_.

Patrik’s maybe a little too rough—he hauls Nikolaj close with one hand on the small of his back and the other curled around the nape of his neck, and kisses him so hard they both stumble a little with the force of it. Nikolaj’s laughing until he melts into it, arms wrapping around Patrik’s shoulders, pressing closer so there’s not an inch of space between them. 

It feels like hours later that Patrik pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against Nikolaj’s and breathe around the lump in his throat. “Hey,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Nikolaj’s throat. “We’re married.”

Nikolaj giggles. “Yeah.”

Technically they’re not married until they sign the paperwork, though, so they get to that pretty quick, and Patrik wonders what asshole decided to include paperwork in weddings. Then the officiant reintroduces them as “Patrik and Nikolaj Ehlers-Laine” and Patrik’s heart skips a beat because now—now they’re actually married. Legally bound to each other. _Forever_.

They walk back down the aisle together, and this time Patrik gives up on being classy and just keeps his hand curled around the back of Nikolaj’s neck the entire way. Apparently he’s not the only one giving up on it—because the second they’re back inside the hotel, Nikolaj whirls on him. “You—“ he says, before jumping into Patrik’s arms and wrapping both legs around his waist. For a second Patrik stumbles until he gets his hands under Nik’s thighs, and then Nikolaj’s planting a heavy, bruising kiss on his mouth and suddenly he doesn’t give a shit if they fall over. All he wants is the press of Nikolaj’s mouth, the warmth of their bodies slotted together, the twitch in Nikolaj’s muscle as Patrik digs his fingers into his thighs. Then Nikolaj breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Patty,” he chokes, eyes big and blue, mouth already kiss-swollen and red, “holy shit, we’re married, you’re my husband—“

He buries his face in Patrik’s neck, shoulders shuddering, chest heaving as he breathes. Not quite crying, but somewhere on the precipice.

“You’re mine,” Patrik says quietly, eyes drifting shut as he nuzzles into Nikolaj’s hair. “You’re mine forever.”

* * *

It turns out that when it’s your wedding day, everyone wants you all to themselves, which Patrik thinks is pretty stupid considering he only got married like an hour ago and Nikolaj’s already being whisked away from him. It’s for an impromptu photo session with his extended family—they already did their photos with family and the wedding party, but there’s grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and all that. So, Patrik gets it, but also. He wants to keep his husband for a little while.

He’s watching Nikolaj laughing with his cousins when Blake comes up, falling into Nikolaj’s empty chair and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “So, I’ve already spoken to Nik,” he says, “but I haven’t had the chance to talk to _you_ yet.” A smile spreads across his face, crinkling in the corners of his eyes. “How’s it feel being married?”

“Good,” Patrik says immediately, because he’s been feeling like he’s floating ever since they walked down the aisle. “It feels really good.” He thinks about it more, trying to put everything he’s feeling into English; the feeling that he’s finally fallen into place, that everything is exactly where it should be, that his entire life’s been leading up to this moment. Something about how it feels like he’s won the Cup, again, except this time he gets to keep it forever. 

Then Patrik forgets whatever he was going to say, because Nikolaj’s holding his six month old nephew and smiling at a camera, and that’s—that’s a lot to deal with, right now.

Blake follows his gaze, and laughs. “You alright?”

Patrik nods. “Yeah. I’m good.” He’s just kind of realizing how much he really, _really_ wants one of those someday. Not right now, obviously. Right now they’re both hockey players, and that doesn’t leave much time for raising a baby. But someday, when one or both of them are retired, he _wants_.

“You know, it’s funny,” Blake says casually, gazing at Nikolaj and his family as they try to arrange themselves for pictures, laughing as they’re doing it. “You two have really grown up.”

Patrik laughs. “We’re mature adults now.”

“God, don’t say that,” Blake says, mouth twisting into a frown, his smile still bright in his eyes. “You’re making _me_ feel old.”

“You _are_ old.”

“Brat,” Blake chastises, soft and fond. “I’ll kick your ass, don’t think I won’t.”

“You might break your hip, old man.”

“You’re lucky it’s your wedding day,” Blake says, before his smile breaks through the disapproving look on his face. “Seriously, though. It’s been an honour to watch you two grow up. I’m proud of you.” 

It’s sort of the same thing he said in his speech, but it’s more meaningful like this, in private conversation with his hand on Patrik’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says quietly, mouth quirking in a smile. “That means a lot.”

A few minutes later, after Blake’s disappeared to go dance with Mark, Nikolaj finally escapes from the family photoshoot. He collapses into the chair next to Patrik, head tipping back. “God,” he says, rolling his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut briefly as he groans. “Weddings are busy.” He turns his head to the side, grinning at Patrik soft and sweet. “How’re you? Being antisocial at your own wedding?”

“Not being antisocial,” Patrik says. “Just taking a break.”

“Yeah.” Nikolaj scoots his chair closer, slumping against Patrik’s side. His head’s resting on Patrik’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted.” He sounds happy.

Still, Patrik can’t help but tease. “Not _too_ exhausted, hopefully,” he croons, curling his hand around Nikolaj’s upper thigh and squeezing just a little too tight. “We’ve got plans, later.”

“I’m not missing our wedding night, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He rubs his cheek against Patrik’s shoulder, a sound caught between a sigh and a purr slipping out. “We’re fucking even if I’m so tired I can’t move.”

“Hot,” Patrik deadpans.

“Like there’s anything you don’t think is hot.”

That’s . . . not even inaccurate.

“Hey.” Nikolaj’s hand slips over Patrik’s where it’s curled around his thigh. Patrik can feel the press of his ring, warm and smooth against his knuckles. “I’ve said this a lot today, but I’m really happy we’re married.”

Patrik’s heart flips in his chest. “Me too, Niky.”

An idea pops into his head. He grabs Nikolaj’s left hand with his own, stretching their arms out in front of them, fingers half tangled so both of their rings are visible. Then he takes a picture, and without any preamble or caption other than tagging Nik’s name, posts it to his instagram story. He just wants to share this moment—to show Nikolaj off, point to him and say _I married that, he’s mine_. Because he really is, now.

“You know,” Nikolaj says, once Patrik’s let his hand drop. “I don’t think we ever actually told people we were getting married. The, uh, media, I mean.”

Oh, yeah. Patrik shrugs. “They knew it was happening eventually.”

“It’s gonna be weird,” Nikolaj says quietly, a smile in his voice. “People are gonna ask about it.” He giggles, and it’s infectious, so Patrik laughs a little too. “That’s kind of exciting.”

“You finally get to brag about me,” Patrik drawls. “Just like you always wanted.”

Nikolaj snorts. “Yeah, it’s a dream come true.”

They don’t spend the rest of the wedding sequestered off in the corner, even though part of Patrik kind of wants to. They do a bit of dancing, make the rounds and talk to people, take a few more pictures with the photographer. It’s all kind of a blur and eventually Patrik gets tired of it, because all he wants to do is get Nikolaj alone and finally _touch_ him.

When they have a moment of quiet Patrik leans down to whisper, “let’s get out of here,” in Nikolaj’s ear, and Nikolaj’s eyes are bright when he nods and grins and says, “fuck yeah.”

The second they’re in the elevator Patrik bullies Nikolaj up against the wall, hands framing his slim waist. Neither of them do anything after that, and Patrik tries to remind himself not to stick a hand down Nik’s pants in the elevator while Nikolaj breathes hard and stares up at him with a smug grin. Fuck, Patrik just wants to mess him up until he’s shaking and crying and whimpering Patrik’s name. Apparently it shows on his face, because Nikolaj’s grin spreads wider, hands coming up to curl in the lapels of Patrik’s suit.

“Something wrong, buddy?” He slumps back against the wall and rolls his hips forward easily, lazily, igniting a spark that burns all the way up Patrik’s spine. “You’ve got a stupid look on your face.”

Patrik narrows his eyes, fingers digging into Nikolaj’s waist. “I look as stupid as you do.”

Nikolaj rolls their hips together again, eyes drifting shut as a tiny moan catches in his throat. “You definitely look stupider.”

The elevator dings, doors opening up onto their floor, and Patrik doesn’t waste any time. He steps back, tugging Nikolaj with him, wrapping an arm securely around Nik’s waist. Then he ducks down and sweeps Nikolaj’s feet out from under him, scooping him up and stepping off the elevator with him newlywed style.

For a second Nikolaj just stares at him, big blue eyes and a dumb expression on his face, red flaring up his cheekbones. Then he scowls, struggling a little bit in Patrik’s arms. “What the hell are you doing?”

Luckily he’s not _really_ struggling, so Patrik adjusts his grip and starts walking down the hall towards their suite. “It’s our wedding night.”

“Yeah, and I’m still not your bride,” Nikolaj snaps, his face bright red and his voice on the verge of cracking. It really is hilarious, how stubbornly he pretends he doesn’t love being spoiled like this. “You know I can walk, Patty, right?”

Patrik shrugs. “So?”

Maybe Nikolaj’s feeling a bit indulgent, though, because he finally slumps into Patrik’s hold. “Whatever,” he says with a dumb grin. “Weirdo.”

When they get to their hotel room Nikolaj unlocks the door, and Patrik steps sideways to bring them both into the suite. It’s a little bit like crossing the threshold, even though this isn’t their actual house; it’s another reminder that this is their wedding night, that they’re married, and Patrik feels a little bit lightheaded from the thought of it.

He lays Nikolaj out on their bed gently and doesn’t hesitate a second before climbing on top to hover over him, arms braced on either side of his head, legs tangled together. Nikolaj’s staring up at him, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and Patrik feels the significance of this like a heartbeat, heavy and profound behind his ribcage.

“I love you,” Nikolaj says, soft and sincere. “I can’t wait for the rest of forever with you.”

It’s a sappy line, but Patrik feels it resonate all the way down to the marrow of his bones. “Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “I love you too.”

He leans down to press a kiss to Nikolaj’s lips. A shiver runs up his spine at the soft, tentative movement of their mouths together, the sigh Nikolaj breathes into the kiss. They’ve done this so many times but somehow this feels like the first.

Arousal burns low and heady in Patrik’s belly. He licks into Nikolaj’s mouth, sucks on his tongue, draws out breathless, high-pitched little noises from Nikolaj’s throat. All the urgency he’s been feeling over the past few weeks, the desperation to shove Nikolaj up against the nearest surface and touch him until they’re both panting and sweaty—it’s bled out, and now Patrik’s just left with a simmering burn and a single-minded goal to do this right. They only get one chance to have a wedding night, after all, and Patrik wants to leave an intangible sort of mark on Nikolaj so deep it’ll never go away. He’s not sure how much sense that makes, but maybe it doesn’t need to make sense.

He shifts his weight onto one arm, trailing his fingertips down Nikolaj’s chest until he can pop open the button of his suit jacket, planting his hand on Nikolaj’s ribs. Nikolaj’s skin is warm even through his shirt, and Patrik’s caught between wanting to get it off and wanting to kiss Nikolaj forever.

His dick wins out in the end. He presses one last kiss to Nik’s mouth before pushing back up onto his knees, a leg on either side of Nikolaj’s thigh. It’s a little tricky, getting the suit jacket off with Nikolaj still on his back, but together they manage it. Then Patrik leans back down, kissing the smooth angle of Nikolaj’s jaw as he slowly starts working on the tie and the buttons of his shirt, Nikolaj’s fingers winding into his hair and tugging a little too hard.

When they’ve gotten Nikolaj’s shirt off Patrik leans back and just takes a moment to look. Nikolaj’s propped up on his elbows, staring up at Patrik with a flush on his cheeks, chest heaving as he breathes even though they’ve barely started. 

“So pretty,” Patrik croons, shuffling over so he’s between Nikolaj’s legs. He drags his fingertips up Nikolaj’s sides. “I missed you.”

They see each other constantly, but that’s not what he means. He’s missed _this_ ; Nikolaj underneath him, flushed red and breathless. Being able to touch him like this.

Nikolaj grins. “You too, Patty.”

Patrik realizes kinda suddenly that he’s done with waiting. He sweeps his hands down Nikolaj’s toned stomach, nimbly undoes the button on his pants. 

Then he’s dragging the pants halfway down Nikolaj’s thighs, and Nikolaj’s eyes go wide and panicked and he blurts out, “wait, wait,” and—

And Patrik’s whole fucking world turns upside down, because Nik’s wearing panties. Black panties, all lacy and silky, emphasizing the bony cut of his hips and the curve of his thighs. 

“You,” Nikolaj starts, a tremor in his voice, “you always call me pretty. So I thought—” He sucks in a breath, and it sounds pained, and Patrik finally manages to drag his eyes away from the panties and up to Nikolaj’s face. That’s when his heart breaks, because Nikolaj looks humiliated, looks vulnerable in a _really bad way_. “I—I don’t even know where this came from, it’s fucking stupid—” His hand comes up to cover his eyes, head tipping back like he’s trying to stop tears from falling.

“Oh, Niky,” Patrik murmurs, smoothing his fingers along the lacy edge of the panties, digging in a little around Nik’s hipbones. “You’re so perfect.”

Nikolaj shudders. He still hasn’t moved his hand away from his eyes, the fingers of his other hand twisting in the sheets. 

“I can’t believe you,” Patrik tells him, his voice a bit rough. “You’re fucking beautiful, Nikolaj.” At Patrik’s words Nikolaj starts trembling, a tiny, wrecked moan slipping out between his teeth. He’s loose and pliant when Patrik tugs his pants off the rest of the way; then, he’s laying there with his lean legs spread around Patrik’s waist and the black panties standing out in stark contrast against his skin. Patrik’s starting to feel a little disoriented by the sight. “Niky,” he says, accent thick, “look at me.”

Nikolaj is always so, _so_ good for him. This is no different, as he breathes harshly, tugs the hand from his eyes, and props himself up on his elbows to look Patrik in the eye. His face is blotchy and red, his lips pressed together in discomfort as he squirms under Patrik’s gaze. “Patty,” he says, shaky and uncertain, almost a question.

Patrik trails his fingers over the lace again, eyes caught before he manages to flick them back up to Nikolaj’s. “Where did you get this idea?”

Nikola shrugs. “I dunno, I—I was texting Rosie, and he made a dumb joke about garters, and—and I guess my brain somehow got _here_ ,” he gestures vaguely down at himself, “and I started . . . thinking about it?” Red flushes halfway down his chest. “And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

The idea of Nikolaj getting this idea mostly on his own, thinking about it for however long, _planning_ for it—it’s a little overwhelming. Then Patrik realizes that they haven’t really had a moment of peace, when Nikolaj could’ve changed.

He tugs on the waistband. “Were you wearing these when we got married?”

Nikolaj’s eyes go wide. “Uh.”

Well, that’s. That’s something.

“Get the lube,” Patrik says raggedly, suddenly very grateful that they had the foresight to make it easily accessible in the bedside table. Nikolaj rolls over onto his hands and knees, reaching into the drawer, and now Patrik’s dying again because Nik’s _ass_ , holy shit.

When Nikolaj turns around it’s with a grin that’s both triumphant and nervous, his limbs moving a little delicately like he’s not quite sure what to do with them. 

Patrik grabs him under the crook of his knee and hauls him back in. A surprised yelp punches out of Nikolaj’s chest, the muscle of his leg trembling under Patrik’s fingers. For a long second they just stare at each other, and Patrik realizes that he’s still completely in his suit while Nikolaj’s wearing nothing but panties. That’s . . .

“Take the suit off,” Nikolaj says quietly, his voice wobbling. “C’mon.” 

He sounds so unsteady that Patrik wonders if it’d actually be too overwhelming for him to handle, all of this at once. Honestly, it’d probably be too much for Patrik, too.

So he strips quickly, tugging off his jacket and shirt and tie, climbing off the bed so he can step out of his pants and underwear more easily. Then he all but falls back on the bed, blanketing Nikolaj’s body with his own and pressing a bruising kiss to his mouth. Nikolaj’s arms wrap up around his back, hands splaying wide and warm across his shoulders, one leg hitching up around Patrik’s hip.

Patrik grabs the lube from where Nikolaj dropped it on the sheets. He kind of likes the idea of Nikolaj fingering himself open like this, embarrassed and bashful, panties shoved down around his thighs. But as much as Patrik wants to watch, he wants to touch even more.

“Love you,” he murmurs against Nikolaj’s lips, popping the cap off the lube and squeezing it onto his fingers one-handed. He keeps kissing Nikolaj, swallowing down the tiny noise he makes, fingers rubbing together to warm up the lube. “You’re so perfect, doing this for me. Making yourself pretty for me.”

“You talk way too much,” Nikolaj complains, but he’s laughing, half-nervous and half-excited. “And you’re super predictable.”

“You’re the one who did it because you knew I’d like it,” Patrik points out, pushing up to grin at him. “What does that make you?”

Nikolaj sighs. “Whipped, apparently.”

“Well, that’s okay anyway.” Patrik can feel his own smile softening, leans down to tuck it in Nikolaj’s neck and kiss him there. “You’re my husband, you should wanna make me happy.”

A tremor runs down Nikolaj’s body. “Say that again.”

Patrik digs his teeth gently into the skin of Nikolaj’s throat, then kisses the fading mark. “That you’re my husband?” Nikolaj squirms, making a small affirmative noise, and Patrik bites him a little harder to turn it into a whine. “You are. Forever.” 

“Yeah,” Nikolaj says quietly, “and you’re mine.”

Now it’s Patrik’s turn to shiver. 

He kisses the corner of Nikolaj’s jaw and reaches down between his legs, finding the lacy edge of the panties, tugging it aside to press two fingers to his hole. Not in, though, just rubbing gentle circles, and Nikolaj curses through his teeth and bucks his hips up against Patrik’s hand. 

“Don’t tease,” he warns, voice trembling, “c’mon.”

He sounds a little bit desperate, but it’s been over three weeks. Patrik’s right there with him. Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tease. He huffs out a laugh, croons, “needy,” in Nikolaj’s ear just as he’s easing one finger inside. Nikolaj’s entire body jolts, a broken noise knocking loose from his chest, fingertips digging into the muscle of Patrik’s back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nikolaj bites out, back arching. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Patrik bites at the lobe of his ear. “Did you miss me, or my hands?”

A breathless laugh tumbles out of Nikolaj’s mouth. “Uh . . . both?”

“Good answer.”

There’s a slow, carnal desperation to the way Patrik curls his finger and slowly mouths a line down Nikolaj’s throat. He wants Nikolaj fiercely, hopelessly, so much that it’s humming over his skin. Mostly, he wants to take Nikolaj apart until he’s a shaking mess, frayed and falling apart at the seams. 

He takes it slow, sucking marks around Nikolaj’s collarbone, fingering him open with the steady, deliberate movement of one finger. It doesn’t take long for Nikolaj’s thighs to start trembling, for little whimpers and whines to start slipping through his teeth. Patrik murmurs endearments and filth into his skin—mostly, “I love you,” and, “you’re so pretty,” and incoherent promises of everything he wants to do—and Nikolaj reacts to every word like they’re sparks of electricity and he’s a live wire.

“More,” Nikolaj groans, when Patrik crooks his finger and rubs his prostate. “C’mon, _more_.”

“Say please?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, pushing another finger in alongside the first without warning. 

Nikolaj keens, high-pitched and almost delicate. “Please, please,” he babbles anyway, stumbling over the syllables, hips hitching in tiny little circles. When Patrik lifts up he sees Nikolaj’s head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open as he whines. His expression’s all twisted up like he’s on the verge of cracking open, left hand fisted in the sheets near his head like he needed something stable to hold onto. His wedding ring glints gold in the low light of the hotel room and Patrik’s heart stutters. “Please, Patty, you—I need it, need you, you gotta—”

“Shh,” Patrik murmurs, leaning down to kiss the tip of Nikolaj’s chin as he presses both fingers against his prostate. “Breathe, Niky.”

“Shut up.” Nikolaj grabs at him, hand pawing at Patrik’s shoulder until he manages to curl it around the back of his neck. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

The urge to actually do that is dizzying. Patrik shakes his head to clear it, breathing a little laboured when he says, “not yet.” He takes the moment to work in another finger, and anything Nikolaj was about to say breaks into a moan. 

When Patrik kisses him it’s like he lights up—hips grinding down with all the leverage he has, both arms wrapping tight around Patrik’s shoulders, head tipping just the right way to deepen the kiss and make it sloppy and filthy. He’s trembling all over and his feet keep slipping on the sheets when he tries to grind down against Patrik’s fingers, desperation and frustration making him whine. He’s perfect; more importantly, he’s _Patrik’s_.

“You’re beautiful,” Patrik tells him, his voice low. “You’re so beautiful, Niky, I—“ The words burn up in his throat, so he kisses Nikolaj again, biting at his lips. He licks into his mouth and keeps fingering him slow and languid, and when Nikolaj comes it’s with a violent shiver and a broken moan that’s almost pained. “That’s it, that’s it,” Patrik murmurs, and works him through it until overstimulation makes Nikolaj squirm and push fruitlessly at Patrik’s shoulders.

Patrik spends a minute letting Nikolaj come down a little, pressing kisses to the marks he left scattered around Nikolaj’s collar. Then he kisses his open mouth one last time before leveraging off and back onto his knees. Nikolaj’s quite a sight right now—chest heaving, head tipped back, panties pulled aside to make way for Patrik’s fingers.

“You look good,” Patrik tells him approvingly, spreading his free hand over Nikolaj’s inner thigh and stroking the soft skin there.

Nikolaj’s still breathing hard, still shaking all over, but he meets Patrik’s gaze with a wry grin. “I _feel_ good.”

Patrik pulls his fingers out slowly, eyes caught on the twitch in Nikolaj’s jaw as he does it. Then he shuffles a little closer, sweeping both hands up Nikolaj’s thighs, pressing them open. “That’s the idea,” he says drily, dragging his thumbs across the lacy edge of the panties. “I think it’s my turn, though.”

“Go for it, big guy.”

So Patrik runs his hands up to Nikolaj’s hips, grabs him a little too hard and drags him even closer. The panties are in the way but too pretty to take off completely so he just tugs them down, until they’re stretched around Nikolaj’s thighs. Patrik’s been hard since the elevator and it passed the point of uncomfortable a while ago, so he doesn’t waste any time lining his dick up with Nikolaj’s hole and tentatively thrusting inside. It makes them both moan, a jolt running up Patrik’s spine like lightning—fuck, it’s been way too long since they did this. 

He works himself inside slowly, carefully, hips rolling forward and fingers pressing bruises into Nikolaj’s hips. It’s hard, not giving into the pleasure building at the base of his spine and thrusting all the way in. But he wants to keep the atmosphere slow and hazy, wants to keep seeing the slow, languid arch of Nikolaj’s back as Patrik fills him up.

Finally, finally, his hips are flush with Nik’s ass. “Fuck,” he grinds out, thumbs digging into the meat of Nikolaj’s thighs. “Fuck, Niky, you’re tight.”

Nikolaj lets out a long, shuddering breath. He whines, soft but demanding when he curls a hand haphazardly around Patrik’s wrist and says, “you can move.”

Patrik nods. “Yeah.” He pulls out halfway then presses back in—still slow, still intense, fire spreading through his body like a drug. 

The rhythm he builds is measured and deliberate. Long, deep thrusts, carving a space for himself like they’re doing this for the first time all over again. It almost feels like they are, like he’s never made Nikolaj squirm and whimper and shake the way he is right now. Patrik’s drunk on the feeling, on the heat around his cock and the cracked open expression on Nikolaj’s face.

“Fuck,” he says, suddenly surging down and collapsing on Nikolaj’s body, hips rolling forward as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Nikolaj’s jaw. “You—I love you so much.” He presses every word into Nikolaj’s skin like they can leave marks, even more physical proof of every overwhelming thing he feels. “You’re the most important thing that ever happened to me.”

“Oh,” Nikolaj chokes, voice broken, and his next breath hitches in his throat. “ _Fuck_.”

Patrik pushes up just enough to see the big, fat tears pooling at the corners of Nik’s eyes. “Niky . . .” he murmurs, transfixed by the sight. Nikolaj’s eyes look even bigger and bluer, shining bright in the dim light. “You’re crying.”

That only makes Nikolaj jolt, a sob catching in his throat, eyes screwing shut as a tear spills over and slides down his temple. “I _know that_ ,” he snaps, the words all coming out in a rush. One of his hands curls around Patrik’s bicep tight enough to hurt, like he’s trying to anchor himself. “I just—you—we—” He hiccups, pauses, breathes in deep. Another tear leaks out when he opens his eyes, meeting Patrik’s gaze steadily even though his chin is all wobbly. “We’re married, Patty.” His free hand snakes up between them, fingertips sweeping gently across Patrik’s cheek, and Patrik’s heart bursts at how _sweet_ that is. “I just—” Another breath, even shakier. “I’m really happy.”

The backs of Patrik’s eyes prickle and he leans down to kiss the shattered expression off Nikolaj’s face. “Me too.”

His hips ease forward again, and a noise caught between a sob and a whine rips free from Nikolaj’s chest. Maybe something inside him has come loose, because he’s not holding anything back anymore; Patrik’s thrusts get stronger, deeper, and Nikolaj’s moans keep getting louder and more broken until he’s practically crying out with every movement of Patrik’s hips. He’s shaking all over, shuddering even harder with every breath, and the vulnerability in every noise he makes—it’s so overwhelming that Patrik’s lightheaded.

Nikolaj keeps crying, too, and Patrik’s long past the point of being concerned over how much it gets him going. He just looks so _pretty_ with tears streaking down his face, all small and fragile and helpless.

“Mine,” Patrik murmurs thoughtlessly, just because it’s true.

Nikolaj’s eyes flash open. “Yours.”

_Oh_. It’s like a punch to the gut, knocking all the air out of Patrik’s lungs. He thrusts forward harshly, rhythm gone, and Nikolaj’s head thumps back against the mattress as he bites out a whine. “That’s not fair,” Patrik says, still trying to catch his breath, head swimming. “You know that’s not fair.”

“So?” Nikolaj’s smile is somewhere between blissful and smug. “M’yours, Patty. What do they say? Til death do us part?”

The frayed string of Patrik’s careful control breaks. He crashes their mouths together and snaps his hips forward, drinking in how violently Nikolaj shudders. He fucks Nikolaj until they’re both groaning, chasing the bright edge of his orgasm, tumbling over headfirst and coming with a noise that’s almost a growl. 

It burns through him like a bolt of lightning for a long time, afterwards. Patrik takes the time to breathe, to let the fever cool.

Then Nikolaj starts squirming up against him. “Patty,” he chokes out, “c’mon, you gotta—please—”

Patrik reaches down and curls a hand around his dick and the words break into a whine. It doesn’t take much, with how strung out Nikolaj is—the right amount of pressure, a slight twist to his wrist—and then Nikolaj’s moaning and coming all over his stomach and Patrik’s fingers.

Exhaustion hits Patrik like a crunch against the boards. He collapses on Nikolaj’s chest, cheek pressed against his hair. For a long few minutes they just lay there and breathe together, soaking in the moment.

“Hey,” Patrik says, his voice ragged. “We’re married.”

Nikolaj laughs. “Yeah,” he says blissfully. “We are, huh.”

It still doesn’t quite feel real, but Patrik figures they have the rest of their lives for it to sink in.

It’s hard convincing himself to get up, but eventually he manages, leaving Nikolaj boneless and trembling on the bed as he heads off into the bathroom for a damp washcloth. Nikolaj’s still spread across the sheets when he comes back, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing to watch. Patrik wipes him down; Nikolaj sighs and doesn’t move unless Patrik moves him, because he’s always completely useless after an orgasm. He tosses the washcloth back in the direction of the bathroom when he’s done, not really willing to get up from where he’s kneeling between Nikolaj’s legs.

Then, just because he can, he delicately tugs the panties back up and into place, smoothing out the waistband just under Nikolaj’s hips.

Nikolaj’s eyes flash open, big and soft and fragile. “Woah, woah, what’re you doing—“

“Shh, baby.” Patrik digs his fingers into Nikolaj’s stomach, makes him wheeze a little. It shuts him up enough for Patrik to keep admiring the view. There’s something about Nikolaj looking small and delicate in lacy black panties, eyes red because he’s been crying, that’s _really_ appealing. Probably a bad reaction, but . . . Patrik just grins, and traces the lace where it meets Nikolaj’s thigh. “We’re definitely buying more of these.”

Nikolaj narrows his eyes and flushes even redder. “Special occasions _only_.”

Patrik shrugs. He’s fine with that for now. Instead of arguing, which is probably what Nik expects him to do, he just pinches the soft skin of Nikolaj’s inner thigh and smirks. “I think you’d look cute in pink.”

Nikolaj’s laugh is almost startled, his thigh twitching away from Patrik’s fingers. “You’re so weird,” he says, not even trying to sound like he’s complaining.

“Your idea,” Patrik points out.

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“I’m never letting this go, you know that.”

Nikolaj sighs, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. You’re the worst, I already know.” He lifts his arm, vaguely grabbing at Patrik’s hand where it’s curled around his thigh, fingers fumbling. “Come down here.”

“We should shower,” Patrik says. He leans forward and settles on Nikolaj’s body anyway, face tucked into his neck, kissing the sweat off his skin. It’s not his fault that Nik’s irresistible right now, all soft and sweet. “Before you fall asleep.”

“M’not gonna fall asleep,” Nikolaj mumbles.

“You will,” Patrik insists, because he knows Nikolaj pretty damn well at this point. “And you’ll wake up in an hour complaining about how gross you feel, and you’ll make me get up and shower with you, and then we’ll wake up late for the breakfast thing tomorrow.” Even as he’s complaining about it, he knows it’s gonna happen. He’s just as whipped as Nik is, and it’s really easy to indulge his clinginess and snuggle up for a nap.

“Not gonna sleep.” Both of his hands spread across Patrik’s back. “Just gonna rest for a second.”

“Then I’m blaming you when we’re late for breakfast.”

Nikolaj huffs, fingertips digging into Patrik’s shoulder blades. “You’re annoying.”

Silence settles over them, heavy and warm like a blanket. Patrik listens to Nikolaj breathing, feels his chest rising and falling, and wonders exactly how he got so fucking lucky. There’s a solid weight in his chest, comfortable and comforting. And maybe he’s said it enough today, but he can’t help but make sure Nikolaj knows, so he presses another kiss to the side of Nikolaj’s neck and murmurs, “I love you.”

Nikolaj’s fingers press in even harder. “I love you too,” he says, accent thick. “You’re my best friend, Patty.”

Somehow it feels like it shouldn’t be that easy, but. Everything with Nikolaj is easy.

(Except, apparently, dragging themselves out of bed early enough to not be late for their own post-wedding breakfast.)

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit, i.......can't believe this is done??? this truly became a ridiculous passion project (remember when 30k was an UPPER LIMIT and i thought "oh maybe 20, 25k???" HAHAHAHA) and it got a little harder to grind out towards the end as i started working full time for summer, but.......this is really close to my heart, after how long i've spent on it. everything i write contains a part of me, but this really feels like a piece of me i'm putting out for you all to see. anyone who's made it this far, thank you so so so much for reading, and i'm sorry ( ~~i'm not~~ ) for being so ridiculously extra and writing >40k words for a challenge with a 1k minimum sjflksjgf
> 
> huge Huge HUGE thanks to everyone on twitter/tumblr who indulged my vague rambling about this fic, y'all truly kept me motivated and excited to finish + post this <3 <3 <3 i hope you all enjoyed :3
> 
> please come interact with me, i love new friends!  
> [tumblr](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/softeldritch)
> 
> //
> 
> the house in this fic is kind of but not entirely based on [this listing](http://tours.mindsetvirtualtours.com/128694)
> 
> and, of course, [the rings](https://www.argyor.com/alianzas-de-boda/alianza-de-oro-18k-4-mm-5140527.html#/29-talla-7) :)


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